The Wrath of Ginevra
by Angel of Your Nightmares
Summary: COMPLETE!GW&DM.When Voldemort falls, two lives collide as the Hogwarts Express collapses. Both destined to save the world.Could love possibly blossom from this endeavor to save the wizarding world and muggle world alike from the clutches of e
1. Just Hanging Around

[**A/N:** I own nothing. But the plot of this fic I do own. This story is inspired by many people and many Weezer songs. And on with the show]

**The Wrath of Ginevra**

**.:I:.****Just Hanging Around**

The train stopped abruptly, making a sleeping Ginny Weasley fall ungracefully to the carpeted floor of her compartment.

"Bloody hell," mumbled the disgruntled redhead. "What was—" She couldn't finish her sentence because when she was trying to sit up, the hand that rested on her robes pulled her back down when she tried to stand up.

"Son of a— " she started when a rusty voice echoed above her:

"Excuse the interruption: the Express is making an emergency stop, Dumbledore's orders. That is all."

Thanks for keeping us informed, Ginny thought bitterly.

There wasn't many to interrupt anyway, only a few Slytherins, a handful of Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw or two and her. All of them coming back from the Holidays and their loving families — with the exception of the Slytherins and their, more than likely, unloving families— rejoicing with all those warm fuzzy feelings.

T'is the time to show off presents, Ginny mused. She did not even want any gifts this year. Perhaps a few Sickles, even a couple of Galleons was all she was asking for. She could get what she wanted, because her own family obviously should know her. When was the last time she ever wore purple? She wasn't complaining, she could have been born into a Slytherin family, as her mother kept telling her.

No matter, she was glad —nay, grateful— to be returning to Hogwarts. Though it wasn't any different there. Perhaps it was worse; she could scarcely get around the school without being teased for her freckles, hair, small chest, lack of friends and so on. All thanks to one individual. Yes, you guessed it: Draco Malfoy.

The name was like acid on her tongue. He always seemed to humiliate her and make it look as if she embarrassed her self on her own. And kept out of the watchful eye of Ron and Harry, for they would probably murder him if she let out how he tortured her for the past five years. Malfoy was clever, for most of the students in Hogwarts just thought Ginny was just extremely clumsy. Like that time in her forth year when he "accidentally" bumped into her on the grand staircase and she fell into some of the after effects of a Dung Bomb explosion Filch had yet to clean up. The sneer was a dead give away.

Ginny managed to stand up and collected herself. _What's the stop for_, she wondered. Never in all her years in Hogwarts did the train stop for any reason, save for the whole Dementor debacle in her second year.

No matter. Ginny sat back down on the compartment seat. Within two uneventful minutes the Hogwarts Express finally started up again. She soon found that nothing else could occupy her time more than sleeping. She could think about her decision, the one she tried to avoid for the entire duration of the Holidays: before she was boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry proposed to her.

Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter had been seeing each other for over a year now without a bump in the road. They were in love. Truly. But she wasn't ready for marriage; she had a whole other year of Hogwarts after this one.

But now with Voldemort destroyed, it was safe for him to pursue their relationship, but that didn't mean he had to rush into things, Harry probably wanted to make sure he didn't lose her like he almost did at the end of her fifth year. Ginny knew her decision but she did not want to break Harry's heart. All her life she went along with what everyone else wanted to do, it kept her more hidden in the shadows, more blended; though it was not at all easy to blend into the crowd while being Harry's girl. She knew that this was how fate played out, they were meant to be, as some may have said.

And she wasn't ever truly forgotten. She knew they would never forget. They wouldn't ever forget her part in opening the Chamber of Secrets. They probably thought she was still possessed by Voldemort's memory. The walls of Hogwarts never forgot.

Harry said he'd support her any way he could when or if they were married. But it was just the simple fact that there were too many things she wanted to do before that time came, she did not know if she ever wanted to be married. She loved Harry with all her heart, but was that enough?

Ginny was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't even seem to notice that she was playing with the ring Harry gave her. She kept it on a chain her brother Charlie gave her on her eighth Christmas. She didn't want to keep it on her ring finger.

Ginny was holding it up to the light when the train gave a sudden jolt, it was tipping over to the right, and before she knew it, the chain slipped from her fingers and fell out the half open window. She started towards it, silently praying it wasn't lost when the cabin gave a lurch and the window made contact with her elbow and shattered.

Being under the average size for a sixteen year old, she slipped right out the window with a crash. The Express was keeling over now, every single cabin; one by one they would fall over the bridge; in the distance, she had been in the last compartment; she could see flames swallow the engine of the train. But no one else fell out. Perhaps they already left the train while it had stopped.

In any case, she saw the silver chain on a screw hanging over the wheel. Ginny shifted her hand clamped on the windowsill and edged toward the chain.

"A little closer... little more...and...got it!" with the cool metal clamped in her hand, she was edging her way down to catch a nearby pole from the bridge. Her bloodied hand was just letting go of the sill when a strong hand clamped around her small wrist.

Who ever it was, she just hoped it wasn't—

_Malfoy._

"What are you doing?" he shouted over the wind. His face was hard; there was no malice in his icy eyes.

"Just hanging around," was her reply. She knew what she was doing, what was he worried about?

"Well, if you're alright— " he began to loosen the grip around her wrist, meaning to scare her — even in the face of death he managed to torture her, amazing — when the whole Express just wretched to the side and Ginny just made it to the pole under the bridge, pulling Malfoy with her.

She watched the scarlet engine completely detach from the rails and in almost slow motion, descend into the water below. There was a great splash that shook the bridge, causing fragments of the rail fall off the side bridge.

"Look out," she said pulling Malfoy further under the bridge when-

SMACK.

**What will happen to our two heroes? Will they be swimming with the fishes for the rest of eternity? Or did they some how escape? What is the cause of this momentous disaster? Are the Slytherins some how behind it? Or did it have to do with that emergency stop?**

Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet maybe available.

And here it is, your moment of Zen:

**Butthead:** Numbers piss me off.

**Beavus:** Yeah, there's like, too many of them.


	2. His Waking Whollop

> [A/N: I own nothing except the plot of this fic]  
  
**.:II:.** His Waking Whollop  
  
There are many ways to awaken a person; a little nudge or plugging one's nose until one gasps for air and wakes up. In the case of our two young heroes, a slap in the face is fine enough. For Draco Malfoy was happy enough lying there in the middle of the tracks without the pain setting in yet.  
  
One more whollop and the young blond was on full alert. So has his instinct told him, he grabbed the wrist attached to that hand and twisted as hard as he could until heard that satisfying crack but as always in these situations that crack was followed by a shriek and a sharp kick where it hurts, for Draco. And like all males, his first impulse was to curl into a fetal position and moan. And so he proceeded.  
  
"You unbearable, insufferable, intolerable git!" where had heard that before? "I pulled you off that ledge when you hit your head."  
  
Oops.  
  
"Who bloody slaps someone?" he croaked between moans.  
  
The reply didn't come. And as the last wave of agony passed him, he cracked open his eyes. It was dark out, as there was no light except for the moon and the stars; it was pretty cold as well. And the fact that it was snowing didn't help.  
  
Draco pulled himself up, careful not to lose his footing from the gaps between the wooden planks. It still hurt to stand though, but he brushed it away and stood tall. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he could see her clutching her arm to her breast, and shaking. It was probably from the cold but Draco liked to think that he intimidated her.  
  
"Bloody idiot," Weasley uttered. "Now what?"  
  
"What do you mean 'now what'?" shot Draco. "The train's gone and we're about ten miles from where we just stopped, I'm going to find somewhere to stay and you — well, that's not my problem,"  
  
"But why did it suddenly break down?" she asked. "And why did it stop in the first place?"  
  
"I don't answer stupid questions," he said, turning around and walking the rest of the way down the bridge. But she wouldn't let him be.  
  
"Of course you answer stupid questions," she shot. "You're with Crabbe and Goyle all the time,"  
  
Draco was about to retort but then realized that she had a point. Her laugh stabbed his insides when he didn't answer quickly enough. But he soon thought of something even better.  
  
"Perhaps you've forgotten the Prefects Hand Guide," he could see her grin fading a few teeth. "All emergency stops requested by the Headmaster are to proceed with evacuation with escorts from all prefects,"  
  
"But what about the Dementor thing?"  
  
"That was because Dumbledore didn't request it nor was it an emergency,"  
  
"Oh," Draco was still chuckling at that memory and Weasley's crestfallen expression. Things were looking up, except—  
  
"Then why didn't you get off as well?"  
  
"I was looking to see if there was anyone left on the train," But both Ginny and Draco broke into fits of laughter at that one.  
  
"Oh yeah and Pansy is naturally blonde," laughed Weasley.  
  
"Yeah—" Draco stood tall the same time Weasley did.  
  
"No matter," Draco stiffened. He turned. "Write me a letter, Weasley, I'll be sure to burn it,"  
  
"Wait," she was getting to sound desperate. "You can't just leave me out here,"  
  
"Oh I believe I can,"  
  
"Come on,"  
  
"You put up such a winning argument, but I must decline," this was fun.  
  
"But where are you going," they were off the bridge now, pushing there way through the tall grass.  
  
"My Father owns a small cottage about three miles from here." Oops, shouldn't have let that one slip.  
  
"Great, but why don't you just Apparate there," she said.  
  
"I can't Apparate without a—" his hand went to his pocket. His was still there. Weasley, perhaps by instinct, backed away when he pulled out his twelve-inch wand.  
  
"Well, I've had dreadful time." He raised the wand above his head. Weasley ran towards him but it didn't matter, he would be gone before she reached him, according to his calculations. But as he finished the incantation, Weasley bounded headlong into him as they Disapparated together, both hopping they wouldn't be spilched or worse: fused together.  
  
**$**  
  
It was in the early hours of the morning when our two young heroes awakened and made sure they had not gotten any mutations from the sudden Apparation.  
  
"You could have killed both of us," was Draco's morning greeting.  
  
"I tripped," the red head retorted. "And I only bumped into you,"  
  
"Well, I really don't care," Draco snapped, despite sleeping for the last six hours, he was beat. All he wanted was to drift off to sleep in the feather bed that was just inside the grey-stone cottage that stood before them. Draco hadn't actually been inside before, he just knew his father kept it for tax purposes, or so he said.  
  
Draco's hand was mere inches from the brass doorknob when —  
  
"Please," he turned around to see a desperate looking red head, nearly in tears. "Let me just stay the night so I can fix my arm, and I'll be off before morning," in her eyes it looked like she already knew the answer.  
  
Draco turned his back to her and unlocked the door with "Alohomora". But when he tried the doorknob, it was still locked.  
  
"Damn it," he grunted as he tried to dislodge the door from the frame with his shoulder. It wouldn't.  
  
"Oh how very muggle of you," Weasley snorted. He whirled around. She wasn't laughing anymore. He was drained, worn and all he wanted was sleep, and this Weasel was mocking him? He just couldn't take it. His patience was running short.  
  
"Now you listen here, Weasley," he said with the tip of his wand less than an inch away from her throat. "You give one reason why I shouldn't curse you,"  
  
"Uh, well I—"  
  
"Three,"  
  
"I could um—"  
  
"Two,"  
  
Red sparks from the tip of his wand licked her neck.  
  
"But I—"  
  
"One, Cruci—"  
  
"I could pick the lock for you," all he heard was "pick" and "lock".  
  
"What was that, Weasel?" his grip on his wand loosened.  
  
"I said," her shoulders relaxed. "I could pick the lock since you obviously can't get through the door,"  
  
"What's the catch," he snapped.  
  
"No catch," Wait for it. "Just let me stay," There it was.  
  
"Not just the night then?" he said lowering his wand.  
  
"Take it or leave it," there was a ghost of a smile that played on her lips.  
  
The deal wasn't that bad, her presence there was better than no entrance to the cottage at all. He could probably get her to clean up the place a bit.  
  
"Fine," he said as he made his way down the stone path and to the wooden door. "But if you can't, then you can walk to Hogwarts in your drawers,"  
  
"You wouldn't," Weasley spluttered.  
  
"Oh, wouldn't I," he was smirking now.  
  
Realization played upon her freckled face that perhaps he would.  
  
**$**  
  
**What have our two heroes gotten them selves into? Will Ginny get the door open? And will Draco actually let her stay? Or will she go back to Hogwarts in her drawers? And what lies beyond the threshold of the cottage? Have Harry and the others taken note of Ginny's disappearance yet? What will Mr Malfoy do when he finds out his son is presumably dead? Only time will tell.  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
**$**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_I'm not fat, I'm festively plump_."- Cartman, South Park.


	3. Getting Acquainted

> **.:III:.** Getting Acquainted  
  
Malfoy nearly trampled her to the ground when he heard the click of the lock. She watched his feet disappear into the dim light of the cottage as she tried to move her arm so it wouldn't be so agonizing. And when that didn't work, she kept it close to her body to prevent any further injury.  
  
"You're bloody welcome," she grumbled as she brightened up the room with her wand.  
  
It was certainly grand, if not dusty, for a cottage in the middle of nowhere. But Ginny didn't much care at the moment about the décor, they could be in a palace or a shack for all she cared, getting rest was her goal for today.  
  
It looked like there was only one bedroom, she resolved as she explored the small cottage, perhaps too small for a Malfoy. There weren't even any servants' quarters, as she half expected; but of course they'd have house elves, but there didn't seem to be any source of intelligent life except her, and Malfoy could hardly be considered an exception.  
  
Before she could rest, she had to take care of the little problem with her arm, but how? Ginny had fixed broken bones before, but never had to set her own arm straight. How was she going to do this?  
  
It looked like there was only one solution that wouldn't involve any more injury to her wrist: Malfoy. Actually, she hadn't even looked at it; from the pain and the crack Ginny had assumed that it was wounded. Maybe it wasn't that bad. She stopped her exploration of the cottage and lifted the sleeve of the Hogwarts robe.  
  
Not too promising was her first thought. And here she was thinking that Draco Malfoy had done serious damage to her arm, to her. Perhaps she was overestimating his power and strength. Perhaps she had been too timid and cowered too easily in his wake.  
  
She was suddenly enraged at everything. Malfoy for hurting her; the train for falling off its tracks for the first time in ten centuries; at Harry for proposing; at everyone for thinking that she was a weak little Weasley that had been manipulated by the memory of Voldemort. It pissed her off is what it did.  
  
At that, Ginny stormed into what she assumed was the bedroom to find not Malfoy sleeping, she dearly would like to kick him awake from a greater distance. But Malfoy pouring over a book, she stiffened.  
  
"Now you listen here, Malfoy—"  
  
"Sshh," was his response.  
  
"Listen, damn it," she roared. Now, Ginny Weasley never really roared at somebody, screeched maybe, but never roared because now she had almost startled herself.  
  
"What—?"  
  
Stone colored eyes were focused on her own. Now that she had his attention, she almost forgot what she was about to shout at him.  
  
"Fix my arm,"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me,"  
  
"I'm not—"  
  
"You broke it, now you can fix it,"  
  
His eyes never faltered from boring into her own. It was turning into a staring match.  
  
"I can't put it right on my own," she tried not to sound pleading.  
  
"I don't see how that's my problem,"  
  
What was she going to do? Malfoy didn't care; there had to be one way to get him to do what she wanted. But the answer was in the pocket of her robes.  
  
Ginny had forgotten that it was still there; the ring Harry had given her the last time she saw him. She slipped her ring finger through the cold gold of the ring; maybe luck would be on her side this time.  
  
By now, Malfoy had gotten back to his reading of the old book and had acknowledged her existence as much as he would the dust bunnies under the bed.  
  
"Malfoy," much to her astonishment, he looked up... eventually. "Set my arm right,"  
  
She feared another staring match was in the future for her arm was throbbing painfully at each passing second, and she knew he enjoyed seeing her in pain, the glint in his eyes was unmistakable. She almost sighed but he replied with a blunt "Very well,"  
  
**$  
**  
Ginny could still feel his warm touch on the skin of her arm, though for the most part it was numb. But the feeling was still there, keeping Ginny from her sleep on the floor of the small living area in the Malfoy Cottage.  
  
It made her blood boil to see his satisfied smirk when she sharply took in a breath when he snapped back her arm. She hadn't even thanked him, not that she would anyway, Ginny had just got up and left the room Malfoy was currently occupying. She had to scream into one of the cushions on the sofa in the living room seconds after he snapped back her wrist.  
  
She stiffened on the floor and pretended to be sleeping as Malfoy entered the room. Ginny counted the seconds as he shuffled through the room, obviously looking for something. Maybe even for her, since she wasn't in very revealing place where she pretended to sleep.  
  
After an uneventful twenty seconds of more shuffling, Malfoy finally exited the room. It surprised Ginny that he didn't try to search behind the sofa where the heating grate was where Ginny relaxed for the moment, because the only reason that he would come into the living area that she could come up with at the moment was to hex her and send her on her way, for he already set her arm right, what more reason did she have to stay. Or perhaps she didn't want to go back at all.  
  
Ginny was entertaining that notion when she heard a thump that came from the next room, Malfoy's room. Probably hit his head, she thought idly. It was then when her photographic memory kicked in trying to recall a moment where Malfoy was hurt from his own disgracefulness – nothing. She had no memory of him ever slipping, tripping, loosing his balance, walking into a wall, nothing. Malfoy, like the Malfoys before him, was completely graceful and suave when he walked around, even his small actions screamed of correct etiquette.  
  
So whatever that was, neither Malfoy nor Ginny had caused it.  
  
Ginny was steadily becoming more paranoid by the second. She was used creaks in the night after living in the Burrow for the last sixteen years, so she steadily made her way to the small hallway that lead to the only spacious room in the small cottage and poked her head in the door.  
  
The moon gave the only light in the room, but she could make out a figure lying on the bed. Other than that no one else seemed to be in the room. Now highly satisfied, she stepped further into the chamber to have a look at the book Malfoy had been pouring over.  
  
She had almost reached the oak desk when a glint caught her eye: it was thing moonlight hitting a liquid substance on his forehead, though she couldn't really see his features clearly from four feet away, but Ginny could clearly tell it was blood.  
  
She realized too late that she had been standing where she was for too long when she was yanked backward towards the door. Warm fingers were slung across her mouth and middle before she could do anything to stop it.  
  
** $  
**  
**If that wasn't Malfoy on the bed then who is it? Perhaps a Death Eater? Harry? Ron? And was Draco expecting someone else? And why did Draco suddenly respond to Ginny's pleas? Do not fret dear Reader, this is just the beginning, there is action to come in the next chapter.  
**  
Tune in next time **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
**$**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_Space. It seems to go on and on forever. But then you get to the end and a gorilla starts throwing barrels at you_." – Futurama


	4. A New Hope

> **.:IV:.** A New Hope  
  
Six and a half school years Draco had spent with Crabbe and Goyle, Crabbe having two more IQ points than Goyle, and never had either of them smelled so nice. Like something wild, like deep inside a forest of some sort with happy little chipmunks collecting nuts and what not. Not really Draco's cup of tea, but at least it didn't smell like sweat, like Crabbe smelt like every since Draco's father introduced him to the two apes.  
  
You will have to excuse Draco's massive head injury for slowly putting together that it was his red-haired companion that he was gripping on to and not his sweaty ex-bodyguard. His arm firmly gripped her middle and slowly brought her down to the floor.  
  
Weasley looked almost relieved when they were face to face, but he slapped a hand over her mouth when he heard a boot clank in the next room.  
  
He had already knocked out Goyle with the candlestick holder, but not before Goyle pushed Draco into the corner of the massive bookcase next to the bed.  
  
He could feel the pulsing of the wound on the back of his head as he waited for the steps to grow louder. And it did. Weasley had closed the door after her when she entered the room and Draco could see two gaps in the light under the door.  
  
He pushed Weasley back further from the door and put a finger to his lips to indicate there would be big trouble if she were to make a peep.  
  
Draco raised himself silently from the ground and waited as the door clicked open and he heard that first boot stomp on the hardwood. Draco could see Crabbe's bulky form make it's way across the room and over to the bed. Just few more moments...  
  
In a flash of blinding green light Crabbe killed Goyle thinking it was Draco.  
  
"Goyle! I've got him—"  
  
Draco loomed over Crabbe enjoying him sputtering and cowering.  
  
"Draco! W-we was just coming to get you, Master Lucius has been awfully worried—"  
  
"I'll bet he has," Draco drawled, fully enjoying Crabbe cower, but it looked like Crabbe had began to take notice that Draco didn't have his wand out, for it had rolled under the bed during his brawl with Goyle.  
  
"Come on now," Crabbe said standing, or at least trying to stand tall. "You can't runaway forever,"
> 
> Okay, now that pissed Draco right off. Malfoys never run away. Draco reached inside his pocket for anything to defend himself. Luck was clearly on his side when his fingers met something sharp in his pocket. He pulled it out. Of coarse, it was a bit of glass from the train when he had tried to pull in Weasley.  
  
"Crabbe, what did you plan on doing after you killed me?" Draco hissed before Crabbe could conjure a decent spell. Draco gripped the glass in his hand until it bled and thrust the glass as hard as he could into Crabbe's side. Draco could hear the sound of flesh breaking.  
  
He pushed back Crabbe and dived under the bed to retrieve his wand. He bolted from under the bed as his hand closed around the wand. He was out the door in three strides before he pulled Weasley out of the room. But before he left that room, he transfigured Goyle into a perfect imitation of Draco himself.  
  
**$**  
  
"You killer! You murderer!" Weasley was howling as he pulled her through the snowy fields. He was almost glad that he had been struck, the pain certainly tuned her out enough.  
  
"And you're hurting me!" Draco finally released Weasley's speckled arm, finally noting that he had been in possession of it for over an hour, not that he was keeping time.  
  
"They would have killed you in heart beat if it wasn't for me," he shot.  
  
He almost smirked when she didn't reply. No, she was almost doubled over; Draco failed to notice that the arm he had been clutching had been the one he had broken in the first place. Not that he cared.  
  
"And you know who the Ministry would come after if they found a dead Weasley on Malfoy property," he then added "especially one that is supposedly dead,"  
  
"That's right," she said, full realization dawning on her. "They think I'm dead,"  
  
"Well spotted,"  
  
Too tired to Disapparate, he trudged on westwards.  
  
"Oh, you're not leaving me here in the middle of nowhere, no you're not,"  
  
"Then keep up," he snarled, he was growing quite impatient with Weasley, and you and I both know how young Draco's temper can flare.  
  
"You don't even know where you are going," he only caught half of that, not that he cared. The wound at the back of his head was pulsing again, and the cold wind chill was biting it. Yet he pulled the hood of his cloak up, vaguely noticing that Weasley only had her Hogwarts robes.  
There. They were out of the cornfields now, it was a small valley and beyond that were trees. He knew he wasn't going to get to where he wanted to go any time soon. His only chance was—  
  
"Weasley, d'you know how to Apparate?"  
  
"Well, Charlie taught me one summer in Romania, but—"  
  
"Good, now, think of—"  
  
"Ssshh!" Weasley hissed, ducking low.  
  
"Wha—"  
  
And pulling Malfoy along with her.  
  
"Look," she whispered, pointing a shaky finger at a nearby bridge. A bridge with train tracks. There were people there too. Almost swooping around, obviously investigating, though it took Draco a while to gather that.  
  
Just about lying on the snowy ground and Weasley slowly pulled him back into the cornfields. Huddled together, completely uncaring of one another's personal boundaries, they crouched. He could feel Weasley's warm breath on his cheek.  
  
"Stop breathing, they'll see it," he hissed.  
  
By now, Draco was fully aware that the youngest Weasley hadn't run off to the Ministry members, blaming Draco for this unfortunate event, even though it was all pretty much Draco's fault that they were standing here in the snow, not that he was going to admit that.  
  
The pair almost relaxed, when they heard—  
  
"Oy, Harry! Find anything?"  
  
Of coarse Perfect Potter was looking for Lady Ginevra by now. It made sense. Send a knight in shining armor for Weasley and the Brute Squad for Draco.  
  
"Nothing," called another voice. "All they could find was her trunk,"  
  
Why. Why wasn't she running away from Draco? Why didn't she go and live a happy Weasley life?  
  
Neither of them moved. Draco was sitting, but Weasley was huddled in his arms. It was too cold to smell anything.  
  
"Name the place and I'll get you there," it was almost convenient that they were so close, or he wouldn't have heard her at all.  
  
**$**  
  
**What have our two heroes gotten themselves into now? Why didn't Ginny run when she heard Harry? Why did Lucius want Draco dead? Now where are our young heroes off too? Why does Ginny know how to Apparate? And why doesn't Draco have the decency to give her his cloak, but I think we all know the answer to that.  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
$  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_My hovercraft is full of eels_." — Monty Python.


	5. A Short Rest

> [**A/N:** I own nothing. The plot I do own.]  
  
**.:V:.** **A Short Rest  
**  
Ginny stood still as Malfoy made himself comfortable in the vast room around them. An attic was Ginny's first thought, but the ceiling was flat. The room looked as if it had been previously prepared for Malfoy.  
  
"Thank you for your cooperation in transporting myself here, you are dismissed," Malfoy announced with his back to her, bending over a trunk, his trunk most likely. Realization finally conquered her thoughts.  
  
"You planned this whole thing, didn't you?" she said, taking in the already made bed next to a wood-planked wall.  
  
"Very good, now leave," he said brushing her off.  
  
"You killed the bloody train, you blond psycho," she hollered at him, finally getting his attention, also trying string together a proper sentence, and not what a three year old would say.  
  
"You are really trying my patience, Weasley," he said, it sounded as if he was almost seething. "And I did not 'kill' the train, as you have put it, I merely changed its course, now get out," he was actually pushing her out the front door.  
  
Ginny pushed him back harder.  
  
"I'm not leaving," she said.  
  
"Of course you are—"  
  
"I'm not, let me stay," she pleaded, letting her hand slip into her pocket.  
  
He was leaning on the doorframe at least now.  
  
"What's wrong with you? Go back. Just go—"  
  
"You do know," said Ginny, trying to regain her composure. "As soon as I step out that door, I'm going straight to the Daily Prophet Headquarters,"  
  
They both knew she didn't need to add anything more.  
  
Malfoy didn't seem effected at all.  
  
"Well, Weasley, this has been the most unpleasant forty-eight hours of my life, say good bye to your memory," she took her gaze away from the wand pointed at her chest and set it on Malfoy's stare. He looked just as determined as she did when he snarled "_Obliviate!_"  
  
Ginny almost laughed when his wand only spat a few pathetic sparks at her.  
  
"Alright how about this: you tell me exactly what's going on and I'll fix that crack at the back of your head so you can pull together a simple Memory Charm,"  
  
In the time it looked like he was processing this information, Ginny let herself in and sat on one of the chairs – really, he only needs one, doesn't he? – and waited for him.  
  
**$**  
  
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Weasley?"  
  
He sounded almost distressed; she couldn't really see his expression at the moment.  
  
"It's a simple Charm, it shouldn't hurt,"  
  
"I never said it did,"  
  
"Good,"  
  
"Good,"  
  
"Now get back to what you were telling me, Malfoy," she said poking the wound with her wand. "I've kept up my end of the bargain,"  
  
"Fine," he said. "I'm seeing spots as it is," he added, unaware Ginny could hear him perfectly.  
  
"I never meant for you to be in that train when as it was about to fall in the lake, if you got off when I said to get off, I would never have to put up with you – Goddammit, Weasley," this time she elbowed him in the back "As I was saying, everything would have gone smoothly if it wasn't for you," he waited, and continued "Let me see, I'll start from the beginning—"  
  
"Usually the best place to start,"  
  
"Yes, well this all starts with Lucius and his brilliant plan to rule the world. He really doesn't have half the power the Dark Lord had; perhaps it was the shock of being sent to Azkaban along with the other Followers. The Ministry should have known they possessed wandless magic, the Dark Lord had been schooling them for years—"  
  
"So that was what all the uproar was about in July,"  
  
"Yes, yes. Now shut up. I only escaped imprisonment because I never fought in the War of the Seven Suns."  
  
"Wait—"  
  
"Will you let me bloody finish? Lucius may have never realized it, but I knew. I knew the Dark Lord doesn't share power, it doesn't matter how far you're in his inner circle, he will always have the power and if it wasn't for your precious Potter, we would have been at his command,"  
  
"And you don't want that?"  
  
"Didn't I _just_ say that he would rule over everything? That includes all the creatures in the magical world and otherwise. That includes the Vampires,"  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, Vampires cannot be governed, and Lucius was willing to test that theory, thus resulting in a great war against the Vampires. Except our power as wizards cannot compete with those who've witnessed the birth of time. So..."  
  
"We'd all be in the wrath of the Vampires. I mean, they're scattered all over the world so if we were to go to war against them..."  
  
"It would mean the destruction of the entire wizarding world" At this point, they were finishing each other's sentence but either of them were too engrossed to really notice.  
  
"So is that why you didn't go to war or join them completely?"  
  
"Pretty much, I would have loved to destroy all those filthy Mudbloods, but I'm afraid it is not worth eventually becoming undead—"  
  
Since it had been a while after she had healed the nasty gash at the head, Malfoy was sitting upright on the bed after lying on his stomach, and therefore Ginny had the perfect opportunity to slap him in the face.  
  
She was almost amazed at how much force she put into her arm, the arm he had broken actually, to make him fall square off the bed. Even more amazed she was, at how quickly he bounced back and pinned her to the floor.  
  
She had no way of defense at all this time: her legs had been pinned down by his knees and he held both arms. His eyes were wild and focused; Ginny could almost see the rage that splintered the irises.  
  
"Don't you think defending your Mudblood friends is a little useless right now?"  
  
Ginny was terrified. Was he going to kill her? She wasn't in the safety of Harry's arms anymore nor would she ever be. No longer could she depend on anyone but herself.  
  
With all the strength she could conjure, Ginny pulled away her hand from his grasp and gave him a forceful right hook, square in his elegant jaw. The impact of her fist resulted Malfoy hitting the floor and Ginny raising herself up and staring down Malfoy.  
  
"I'm not your plaything. You can't just torture me at will anymore. I've put up with your stupid childish terrorizing for long enough. I can either be your ally or your enemy. What's going to be Malfoy?"  
  
**$  
**  
**What is the cause for young Ginny's sudden stout heart? What will Draco's decision be and will it bring them as allies or break them as enemies? Where exactly do these two foes' hearts lie? Only time will tell.  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet maybe available.  
  
**$**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_I may be a cold-blooded jelly doughnut but I have impeccable timing_."  
  
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer


	6. Two Heads Are Better Than One

> [**A/N:** I own nothing. Only the plot of this fic, I do own. Again, sorry for the delay]  
  
**.:VI:.** **Two Heads Are Better Than One  
**  
You would think that as a Malfoy, this Malfoy in fact, you'd be able to make a great deal of decisions. Quite the opposite in fact. Young Draco, since this the dawn of his days, he never really had to make an important decision. Joining the Quidditch team? Of course, his father personally took care of arranging that, as we all know. Elected Head Boy? Well that was a given, couldn't you think of a scandal it would cause if not?  
  
So as you can plainly see, it was quite an old fairy tale that Lucius made all the decisions in Draco's life, no question. A Malfoy wouldn't have any reason to rebel now would they? Who doesn't want to live in a great big Manor, surrounded with heaps of gold at your finger tips, and not having to give one thing back to society?  
  
Things faltered slightly when Lucius was arrested, Draco couldn't even fathom how his father could convince the Ministry that he wasn't the one that lead the Dark Lord's armies in the War of the Seven Suns. So of course he was released but always under the ever watchful eye of Dumbledore.  
  
** $**  
  
Draco had always relied on the facts to back him up, he was always accessed to the facts, of course, nothing a little sneaking wouldn't hurt, but let's not get into that. But now the facts were against him. This Weasley could be his downfall; his entire plan could crumble by the freckled hands of this Weasley. A puzzle, she was; he knew this already. But now this proposition of hers was most perplexing. What was her intent? Stay with him for a few weeks, run off and claim he kidnapped her? You couldn't really trust anyone these days.  
  
It was one of Draco's main goals in life to render another person speechless, thus giving him the opportunity to ridicule them further. But this wasn't the situation Draco was used to.  
  
"It's none of your business," she stated quite stubbornly.  
  
"It's none of my business if you wander around London without a memory, now is it Weasley?"  
  
The freckles on her face stood out a little more, but still she kept her composure, it was damn near irritating.  
  
"It's your choice now, Weasley,"  
  
"Well then, why did you run away?"  
  
"I didn't _run away_, I created a carefully constructed plan to-," he paused. "This isn't about me; it's about you meddling in places where a Weasley should not,"  
  
"I –er- I didn't want to go through another year of Hogwarts," she said.  
  
"Don't lie to me Weasley, I saw Potter give you that ring, I know what will happen if you go back," Weasley turned paler with every word, she knew it was true.  
  
"Someone's afraid of commitment," he taunted, like they were back within the walls of Hogwarts. "Oh this really is brilliant. Potter, who saved your skin last summer, is being rejected! And you just can't bear to tell him the truth, can you Weasley?"  
  
Draco didn't expect her to burst into tears, that wasn't like her; he knew she'd be angry. But now she was fuming.  
  
"All you have to do is say it," he mocked. "'I want to stay with you, Draco,'"  
  
"No," she said simply.  
  
"Are you quite sure, Weasley?"  
  
"No..." she didn't look sure either.  
  
"What's it going to be?" Draco really couldn't stand this, it was one thing that he was actually giving her a choice and now she thinks she could call the shots, not bloody likely.  
  
There was a long pause between the two, Draco had half a mind to curse her right here and now, the other half wanted to see what her decision would be.  
  
"Fine," she said, he had almost drawn his wand ready to curse her. "I want to stay with you Draco,"  
  
Draco didn't know whether to be irritated or utterly, utterly relieved.  
  
** $  
**  
Sleep didn't come to Draco that night. It teased him into drowsiness and escaped his grasp just before he drifted off. It was a curse when being a light sleeper. He knew that, but he liked to blame it on Weasley's incessant breathing.  
  
Draco of course, took the bed while Weasley slept under the boarded window next to it. Very odd how she could adapt so quickly; perhaps an hour after their discussion she laid out her robes on the floor and used her Hogwarts sweater as a pillow.  
  
Draco watched the hands on his pocket watch turn ever so slowly to there destination of five in the morning, for that would be the time for Draco to start to prepare to get ready for his journey. Our journey, he corrected himself.  
  
Of course it was at this moment when Draco noticed that Weasley hadn't really said anything and he just presumed. He was right, so what did it matter? What did it matter to him if she and Potter had problems? Nothing. He didn't care a bit. Nothing at all. But in the interest of bothering her beyond reason, why didn't she want to live the happy life with Potter? And have wonderful redheaded Quidditch stars with bad eyesight? Maybe she was just having an identity crisis and needed to "find herself".  
  
Draco recalled how he made Weasley's life miserable in their days at Hogwarts. There wasn't really any reason for it; it was just what she stood for that pissed him off so much; happiness, good over evil, and all that good stuff. That and she was the weakest of the bunch. But the reactions he got out of her were remarkable. His goal had been to make her shed a tear, and when that didn't work he just tried harder. Sometimes she'd ignore his teases and taunts, sometimes shed go so far as to explode at him like a howler sent for Longbottom.  
  
Everything has an end, his taunts died when she became involved with Potter and his merry group of friends and fans. So there wasn't room for him to sneakily make her life miserable with the likes of Potter around, especially with that incident at the end of last term. Draco had honestly expected Potter to have already proposed, for she clearly didn't get around much if she didn't hear the rumors about that ring he had gotten her.  
  
Five o'clock, his pocket watch read. In one swift move, Draco stood next to the bed and with one quick wave of his wand the bed was a stray piece of drywall. The chairs melted into the floor, really what was the point in conjuring them in the first place, he pondered. Perhaps he thought he'd be staying longer.  
  
With Draco's shrunken trunk safely tucked away in his robes, he was ready to leave. Almost out the door and "Leaving so soon, are we?"  
  
"That was the idea," Draco said without looking back.  
  
"Well, I'd love to disappoint you, so you'll just have to wait for me,"  
  
"Really, Weasley—"  
  
"Just a bloody second,"  
  
Fine, he thought. She actually was by his side in a matter of seconds. She had transfigured her robes into a wooly cloak. Good, now she wouldn't complain every five seconds that she was cold.  
  
"Now what?" Draco and Weasley were now standing in a dismal corridor with shivering Florissant lights. "We have to Disapparate," was his response. Oh blast.  
  
"Come here," and without waiting for and answer, Draco grabbed her round the middle and said the incantation.  
  
**$  
  
Where are our two heroes off to? Will Draco let Ginny tag along or will he leave her somewhere else with no memory? Why is Draco in such a hurry to leave? Why doesn't Ginny want to go back to Harry? Only time will tell.  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
** $**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_Sell my guitars? Would you tell Picasso to sell his guitars?_" --Dewy Finn,  
  
_School of Rock_


	7. 1978

> [A/N: I own nothing. Just the plot of this fic.]  
  
**.:VII:.** **1978**  
  
Nigel's March was guarded by its fellow weeping willows that surrounded the land. The house stood tall as it had through the raids and the wars it had endured. It was famous for the execution of Nigel Braun that it had hosted in the summer of 1978, after being convicted of kidnapping and murdering several Muggles on his property. His wife, Elvira, lapsed into an illusion of reality days after Nigel's death.  
  
Ginny had seen the newspaper headline of this when she was cleaning out the attic at the Burrow a few summers ago. She hadn't even thought of it until she was standing in front of that very house with Malfoy by her side. What really stuck in her mind was that they said his ghost still lived with his wife, or so they said.  
  
"You can't believe everything you read in the newspapers," Malfoy told her as he stepped ahead to knock on the oak door.  
  
Before Ginny could reply, the door swung open to reveal an elderly woman with frizzy white hair that cried "Oh, Henry! You're finally back!"  
  
"What the—"  
  
"Oh, Nigel and I have been ever so worried," said the old woman, guiding him into the house. "Oh! And you brought Isadora, how lovely," a withered hand clamped around Ginny's wrist pulled her into the sweet smelling house. She could see a magnifiecent stair case with a crystal chandelier hanging just above. The walls were almost covered with moving colorless pictures that Ginny couldn't make out.  
  
The two were rushed out of their shoes and guided into the living room. The elderly woman almost shoved them into the squishy love seat. Ginny looked at Malfoy quite abashed but he seemed perfectly fine at the identity confusion.  
  
"Malfoy—"  
  
"Just sit tight,"  
  
A moment later the woman, probably Elvira, bustled back into the room with a tea tray. Ginny had to admit she was quite thirsty. A million questions spun through her head, this was Draco's doing, she thought. He must have done something to these people to make them think he was someone else.  
  
"It's so nice to have you back, Henry," the old woman said warmly. She had a kind face and a wide smile.  
  
"It's nice to be back," Malfoy said.  
  
It was absolutely Malfoy's doing.  
  
** $**  
  
"I didn't do anything to them," hissed Malfoy as they were getting ready for bed in "Henry's" old bedroom. "I'm telling you, they think I'm their son Henry Braun. I did a bit of research on this—" Ginny gave him a foul look "And I found out their son and daughter-in-law died ten years ago."  
  
"Wait, so that means we're married?" Ginny inquired.  
  
"No, it means they were married, we're just picking up where they left off." He made it sound like a game.  
  
"That's horrible; it's despicable,"  
  
"Well what else could we do? Run off to the Leaky Cauldron?" he snapped.  
  
"It's better that deceiving a poor old woman,"  
  
"She's not only old; she thinks it's still the 70's and that the Dark Lord is still about,"  
  
Ginny shivered.  
  
"Oh that's even better: you're deceiving a crazy old woman now." she shot. "Much better, Draco,"  
  
"Wha—"  
  
"Fresh sheets!" Elvira burst into the room with crisp white sheets in her arms. "Freshly laundered," she announced as they watched her make the bed. Ginny counted the minutes, it took less than three.
> 
> "Well, good night and pleasant dreams, my dears," she said warmly as se closed the door with a small swing.  
  
"Listen," he said before Ginny could even start. "I'll explain everything in the morning when we're out of here. This is only temporary," he seemed a bit easier to put up with, Ginny noticed.  
  
"Now shut up, and go to sleep," he snarled, getting into the small double bed.  
  
"Oh, I don't think so," the redhead snapped. "You got the bed last time, why should I have to sleep on the floor like a dog while you get a big comfy bed?"  
  
"Because, Weasley," he propped his head in his hand. "last time I checked, I made the rules and you followed them, unless you have a problem with that, then you're by all means welcome to sleep out side."  
  
"I'll take the floor," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.  
  
"Good choice," he said rolling over and putting out the lamp.  
  
"Oh thanks a lot," Ginny said when she began to undress.  
  
"My pleasure,"  
  
Ginny sighed. Another night on the cold floor. She almost expected thins from him, not the sleeping arrangements, but his deceitfulness and cruelty to other people. Of course he didn't know any better, he was raised that way. But still, he did have his own ethics.  
  
Ginny finally kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks after she pulled over the granny nightgown Elvira gave her, he one with frilled wrists and neckline that went up her throat. Now the matter of unhooking her bra; quite the task when she already had the blasted gown on, it was impossible to reach the hooks at the middle of her back. She had been trying this for quite some time when –  
  
"Here, Weasley," Malfoy, standing right in front of her, guided his hands around Ginny's torso without actually making any contact, unhooked the clasps in under a second. She let out a breath.  
  
"There," he said.  
  
"How did you do that so fast?"  
  
He smirked.  
  
"Wait, don't tell me,"  
  
He stood there for a moment in front of her, just staring.  
  
"Weasley, tell me," he said gravely. "You wouldn't use a band-aid without a reason, would you?"  
  
"No, of course not,"  
  
"Then why do you need to wear a bra?"  
  
She didn't make a move. She was really used to this, but now ... She thought things had changed, that he somehow changed over this past week. Obviously not.  
  
"Goodnight, Malfoy," Ginny hissed with venom as she got to her makeshift bed and curled up into the thin comforter. He's just as vile and arrogant as he'll ever be, she thought to herself. She pondered the day over...that tea session with Mrs. Braun was endless, she just wouldn't stop talking about how she cleans the house or how lazy her husband is (isn't he dead?) and how the backdoor doesn't swing right. It was a confusing day. Ginny tossed and turned and still couldn't fall asleep. And she almost did, it occurred to her that she'd called Malfoy that sinister, gut wrenching name of his: Draco.  
  
**$  
**  
**Draco's certainly going to regret that remark. What are Draco's explanations for the morrow? What does he have planned? Is Ginny ever going to rebel against Draco? Is Draco really as twisted as Ginny thinks he is?**
> 
> Tune in text time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet maybe available.  
  
** $**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
**FARQUAAD:** What is that? It's hideous!
> 
> **SHREK:** Aw that's not very nice. It's just a donkey.


	8. I Dream of Ginny

> [A/N: I own nothing but the plot of this fic. Sorry this one took so long.]  
  
**.:VIII:.** **I Dream of Ginny**  
  
"Now you do know what you're risking," he stated. "Don't you Weasley,"  
  
"Well I wouldn't be here if I didn't, now would I?" she retorted.  
  
"Then you know it's going to be hell to pay if you're discovered,"  
  
"Of course I do," she said desperately. "C'mon, I don't like the look of this place,"  
  
He waited as she sighed and followed her in to the shop. He forgot he couldn't feel his fingers until the moment he stepped inside and passed a cabinet that read "Do not open; darkness ahead". He nodded to Weasley to give her the go ahead to ring up the shopkeeper.  
  
The chime shattered the silence and hung in the air. Draco steadied his breathing and started looking around; his father said there had been reason to believe this object had been stolen from its place, and now resided in this shop. Lucius said it was only a matter of time before Borgin put it up for sale. Draco had checked into it and indeed such an object existed he had traced it down to five places, Borgin and Burkes was the first stop.  
  
Draco watched the greasy figure of Borgin appear behind the counter.  
  
"I'm looking for something for friend of mine," he heard her say. Now, he had just enough time to look around. There were vials of threatening looking potions that stocked the upper shelves. There were miniature stone figures of women that looked horrified.  
  
Draco checked on Weasley. She had pulled her hood down; the candlelight flickered across her flaming hair. Borgin drawling on about something with a dazed look while Weasley listening (or looked) attentively. Draco turned back to the shelves. It was supposed to be here, he had seen it here before, but years and years ago.  
  
Draco looked around the cabinet. Weasley was talking to him now. He could faintly make out what she was saying...  
  
"Ah, yes too true Mr. Borgin," she said in a defined tone. "But I'm afraid I must be going,"  
  
Borgin sighed. Weasley gave him her hand to shake but instead he took it as if he was about to kiss it. He was about to when the color drained from is already pale complexion and shouted, "Great Scott!"  
  
"What--?"  
  
Borgin seized her arm across the counter and gave a hollow laugh as he examined her freckled hand.  
  
"Thought you could fool old Borgin, did you?" he sneered as he came around the counter still clutching her arm. He took her by surprise by pulling her towards him, there noses only inches apart. "You know, they've been looking for you Miss Weasley. It was in the paper, or do the dead not prefer the Daily Prophet?" He laughed at his own joke and threw her to the ground.  
  
"Master Lucius has been expecting you, it's best to come quietly," he scorned.  
  
"I won't! I'm of no value to him—"  
  
"Are you? Cruc—"  
  
Draco jumped from behind the cabinet and charged at Borgin, cutting off the spell; Draco hauled him up and directed his wand to Borgin's throat.  
  
There was a stunned silence.  
  
"Goodbye Mr. Borgin," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Your services to the Malfoy family are no longer needed.  
  
Borgin closed his eyes, waiting for the final words of "Avada Kedvra". But instead Draco said: "Alohomora!"  
  
The cabinet behind Borgin burst open as Draco shoved him into the darkness. He struggled to get the doors closed but finally "Locomotor cabinet!"  
  
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. That was close. Very close. He turned to Weasley and smiled.  
But she didn't smile back. Quite the contrary; she was livid.  
  
"What the hell did you do?" she snapped as she got up off the floor. "You could have asked him—"  
  
"Shut up, I know where it is," he interrupted. "Now let's get ourselves out of here," He could here faint screaming coming from the cabinet, as if some one was falling.  
  
And with that, he seized her around the middle and Apparated out of there.  
  
**$**  
  
She was still cross with them when they got back to Nigel's March. Weasley stomped up the stairs and slammed a door. She'll cool off, he decided. Better to just leave her alone. All he needed was a strong tea and he'd be all right, except, he couldn't find that old bat of a woman anywhere, and it wasn't like he was going to make his own tea.  
  
He scanned the ground floor for her but alas, she was no where to be seen. Probably folding laundry or something, he mused. The upstairs corridor was bare, maybe she's talking to Weasley. He tried the doorknob to their room, but to no avail.  
  
And that's when heard the muffled cry of "Draco!!"  
  
Without thinking twice, he kicked down the door to find - no one. But the wardrobe door kept shaking. The lock was melted shut. He shook the doors but they wouldn't budge, so he took another approach. Drawing his wand, he tapped the side of the wardrobe and the bolts in the hinges unscrewed themselves and the doors were free.  
  
Behind numerous multicolored robes sat a shaking mass of hair that could only be his red haired companion.  
  
"Ginny..." He put a hand on her arm, risking another row. But to his great surprised she looked up tear stained and all. She took in a breath. "They're here,"  
  
His blood turned to ice and his heart skipped a beat. They had to get out of here.  
  
Before he could register what she was doing she leapt up and threw her arms around his neck.  
  
"Draco, look!" Weasley pulled away and pointed behind him. Everything was on fire; the bed, the rocking chair, everything.  
  
He pulled her up with him and made a go for the door before a flaming tapestry collapsed in front of it. The corridor wasn't any better: the people in the moving pictures were huddled to the side of the frame trying to avoid the fire that would soon consume them.  
  
Draco stepped on the first step on the staircase and without warning it fell through, Weasley had to pull him up to avoid the fire that was taking over the staircase.  
  
"OK, we're going to have to jump," he said, ending it with a cough. The air was getting really thick and hard to see.  
  
"Oh I don't think so," Weasley said simply, wiping away a few stray tears. "does it really look like anybody could make a jump like that,"  
  
"Just come on," he snapped, kicking down the flaming banister with ease. "Lady's first,"  
  
She lowered herself down until she was hanging from the upper floor. Letting go, there was thump.  
  
"You alright?" he shouted over the flames.  
  
"Fine," came the answer.  
  
He proceeded to lower himself down until he was just hanging; it really wasn't that far down.  
  
"Come on," he heard her shout.  
  
He let go and thumped down on the ground, almost losing his balance. She looked very frightened and she had a deep cut oozing blood over her left eyebrow.  
  
"Lets go,"  
  
"But—"  
  
He swung the door open wishing he was facing his father instead of what he saw before.  
  
"You are surrounded," someone called. "Come quietly and your sentence will not be as severe."  
  
Ministry wizards. More than fifty at least. Draco made a move to go back inside, but as the door opened a stunning spell flew at him and he dodged it just in time. Only Weasley didn't. Draco tried to pull her up as she slumped to the floor. He slammed the door closed and Apparated the hell out of there.  
  
**$**  
  
**Who told the Ministry where our two heroes were hiding? What is the object Draco is so desperately looking for? Will they find it before Lucius does? Where is the next stop for our young heroes? Will Draco get Ginny to safety?  
  
**Tune in next time to the **Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
**$**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen:  
  
"_You want the truth! You can't handle the truth! No truth handler you! Bah! I deride your truth handling abilities!_" — Sideshow Bob, _The Simpsons_


	9. Saving The World is Dull Work

[**A/N:** I own nothing, but the plot of this fic I do own. Here's a long one to tide you over. I hope Draco sounds sexy XD]  
  
**.:IX:.** **Saving The World is Dull Work  
**  
Ginny could feel the blast of cold wind grip her to the core before anything else as she was revived. Never having being stunned before, she wondered why none of the curse's victims didn't complain of an enormous headache she had acquired. Vaguely aware of the numbness in her elbows and the strong scent of pine as she pulled herself up, shook the ache from her head and opened her eyes.  
  
Malfoy was tucking away his wand into his robes. He looked like he just took a wild trip through the Forbidden Forest: his blond head was no longer a sight for suave perfection but windswept, tangled and full of stray twigs and snow, he had some how acquired many scratches along his neck and face not to mention the nasty gash on the bridge of his pointed nose.  
  
"It wasn't just a stunning spell then," he said, breaking the silence. "She's been struck dumb by a Confundus Charm,"  
  
"Oh, shut up," she said as she tried to stand up, but some how could not manage it. Pain splintered her left ankle leaving her to drop down on the ground again.  
  
"And I was just getting used to the New Weasley that actually shuts up," he sneered.  
  
"Very witty. What happened?" she asked, finally taking in their surroundings: they were being sheltered by a very thick pine tree that looked very tall from where she was sitting.  
  
"Well," he said, wiping a few offending blond strands away from his face. "I couldn't very well wake you up while the Ministry wizards were chasing us; besides it looks like you sprained your ankle on your way down off that banister,"  
  
"I think you're right," she said, raising her left leg a bit, it was swelling through her sock. "The best thing to do right now, would be to stay here until the Ministry clears off and the storm clears up,"  
  
"So you mean actually sleep here," Malfoy said looking dumbstruck and appalled. "Outside?"  
  
"Oh come, on Muggles do it all the time and we don't have to sleep," she said, with fixed sweetness. "We could always talk,"  
  
"You know, the pine needles suddenly look very comfortable," he said rather sarcastically.  
  
"Thought so," mumbled Ginny, wrapping her cloak about her when something finally caught her realization: he could have just left her to the Ministry and gone on by himself, but he didn't. He carried her along with him. What did that mean then?  
  
"Weasley," he called suddenly from the other side of the tree.  
  
"What?" the redhead called back.  
  
"Let me have a look at that ankle of yours,"  
  
"Why—?" Too late for questions, as he had already grabbed her foot and pulled it forcefully towards him.  
  
"Ouch!" Ginny whined, as he pulled her towards him. "That really hurt,"  
  
"Oh get over it," he snapped, taking off one of her Mary Janes and exposing her socked foot to the cold night air. He slowly removed the gray sock from her foot, the sprain looked a lot worse than she expected. It was now almost twice the size of her other ankle.  
  
"I am afraid I'm going to have to cut it of," Draco said solemnly.  
  
"What?" Ginny gasped. But Malfoy couldn't hold the severe look and his lips twitched to a malicious grin.  
  
"I'm just joking," he laughed, holding her freckled heel in the palm of his hand. "It's just a sprain, it should heal over night, if we're lucky. But for now..."  
  
He pointed his wand at her discolored ankle and muttered something. And with that, white bandages shot out from his wand and wrapped themselves around the ankle and tightened to some degree.  
  
"Better?" he asked.  
  
"Much," she replied. He handed her the sock and the Mary Jane. She had almost started to pull her sock back on when something caught her eye.  
  
"Malfoy, what's..." Draco made a move to retreat is arm but she was too quick for him. With he hand wrapped tightly around his wrist she turn over the arm and pushed up the sleeve. It wasn't the Dark Mark etched onto his skin like she had suspected, but a nasty burn that climbed up his arm. She could feel his pulse racing under her fingers. She looked up to his face. There she saw shame and anger like she'd never seen before. Practically yanking away his arm from her grasp, he turned away to the other side of the tree.  
  
She followed and sat beside him. Before she could say anything, he cut in.  
  
"Don't waste your breath, Weasley," he snarled. Ginny moved a bit closer to him so they were sitting side-by-side against the tree.  
  
"But couldn't I—"  
  
"You better put your sock back or your foot will freeze," he interrupted.  
  
She did so along with her shoe, though it wasn't any warmer since her sock had been in the snow.  
  
"But what if I—"  
  
"What if you what, Weasley," he sneered at the last word. "Merlin, can't you just leave it be? This is my problem, I'll fix it."  
  
"_My_ ankle was _my_ problem and you didn't let _me_ fix it," she shot, quite annoyed with him at this point.  
  
"That's different, you didn't know what to do," Draco reasoned.  
  
"Perhaps I did, you helped me and I didn't ask," Ginny retorted.  
  
"Well don't expect the same treatment in the future," he snarled, his cheeks flushing and narrowing his eyes.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Ginny snapped, this wasn't like any argument she'd ever had.  
  
"Just go to sleep, Weasley," Draco said, dismissing the subject.  
  
"But—"  
  
"Goodnight,"  
  
Ginny sighed and carefully lay her head on his shoulder, very determined not to give up on this.  
  
**$**  
  
Sleep didn't come to either of our young heroes that night. Ginny and Draco basked in each other's silence until morning dawned through the gaps between the pine needles into their hide-away.  
  
Dragging the ice block she had for feet through the snow they slowly departed from the sunbathed forest noting many footprints of various sizes in the snow. Ginny insisted they find a better place to Disapparate. It angered her to the core that Malfoy wouldn't tell her what was going on. It was hard for Ginny to keep up with Malfoy's long strides as her ankle still pained her. He had eventually given in and helped her along the way, complaining she was slowing them down.  
  
Her insides squirmed as he helped her over the rather large ditch half covered in ice. The anger in her head muddled her thought so she kept tripping over unexposed roots whenever Draco warned her to watch out. Her hand kept going to the inside pocket of her robes for reassurance. Within the wooly confines of that pocket was what she held more dear to her than any ring Harry could give her; it was the tiny makeshift snitch she had caught when she played against Harry during the summer before her Fifth Year. He had given it to her the summer after when they were already eight months into their relationship, before he had to go off to the War. It had looked something weighed heavy on his mind that day he told her he loved her, his eyes had narrowed in concentration, like it did so often after Sirius died, as if deciding against it. Instead he gave her the little silver sphere.  
  
Ginny held it up to the sunlight, vaguely wondering how Harry had acquired it in the first place when it was suddenly snatched away from her cupped hands in a flash.  
  
"Is this what has been keeping you back," he asked irritably. Apparently she had stopped in mid-stride looking at the peculiar orb.  
  
"Give it back, Malfoy," Ginny seethed. He always had to ruin everything.  
  
"I just want to see it," he said as she grabbed for his hand in vain. The look of malice drained from his face as he held up to orb to his eyes.  
  
"It couldn't be..." The blond one pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment from his robes and studied it.  
  
"What are you—" Ginny started but was cut off by a rather rude "Sshh!" from Malfoy.  
  
"I can't believe you've had it all this time," he finally said, it looked like the fury he felt had evaporated.  
  
"What?" she snapped, growing impatient. "Had what all this time?"  
  
"The object, you ninny," he exclaimed, as if he hadn't seen anything easier to comprehend. "I've been searching for it for ages and here you are with it all this time!" It looked like he didn't know whether to be betrayed or utterly happy.  
  
"Come on," he said pulling her along.  
  
"Wait, wait! Where are we going?" she panted from trying to keep while he ran.  
  
He stopped in mid-trot looking like he almost forgot something. She looked into his eyes expecting to see utter loathing but the smoky orbs deceived her yet again. His eyes, blank as fresh parchment, gave nothing away as if holding something back. He wasn't blinking.  
  
"Now listen, Gin – Weasley," Draco said blankly. "You come with me and there's no going back. This is your last chance to go home." His tone was definite, like he was stating a business proposal.  
  
This boy made her only home away from home a living hell. He tried to get Hagrid sacked on a number of occasions. He cheated. He lied. He deceived. This blond nightmare was the most despicable person she had ever had the misfortune of coming across. Yet this is what intrigued her so. He was like book you couldn't put down, every page just as shocking and mysterious as the next.  
  
And this was why she didn't leave him that day in the forest clearing as many wondered years after. In the good and bad days that followed she wondered again and again why she couldn't go back home. She pondered this while she stood in line at the food market and told the pimply cashier that she was a little short got all the groceries for free.  
  
It was mid February and the two of them had made a nice home, if not a hideout, in the highest room of an abandoned church long since inhabited by any human life. Draco usually kept inside making plans with countless complicated maps and charts spread across the kitchen table. They had long since agreed not to snap at each other or make rude comments now that they were business associates.  
  
Ginny would bring up the burn now and then but it usually turned into another row so she left it be...for now.  
  
The redhead had taken to cutting out articles from the Daily Prophet they received every night so they could avoid attention from the town's people. She would take the pages that said anything about her disappearance or the status of Harry right now, as some writers had taken a liking to the poor hero that lost someone else, though Ginny knew they were prone to over exaggerate, and Sellotape them to the wall beside the stained glass window next to the mattress Draco would sleep on and Ginny would just rest her head on the mattress. He would always sleep in his robes and Ginny didn't dare to ask if he could share the mattress so she could have something soft to sleep on.  
  
Draco said this was a stupid waste of time but she had caught him a few times reading one of the articles. He had also made a habit of changing in the small restroom near the front entrance; did he perhaps have more burns like the one on his arm?  
  
But the one thing that always put Draco in a foul mood was that he couldn't use magic. It was true, if they used too much magic in one spot, there was a chance the remaining Death Eaters might find them. Due to that inconvenience, Draco couldn't magic away his five o' clock shadow he would scratch at irritably every time he was really concentrating on something rather difficult to get past. Not to mention his hair had grown to fall past his eyes and rather long, almost past his collar. In the first few days he almost kept itching with discomfort but eventually stopped when she told him one day that she liked his new rugged look.  
  
"You want help with that?" Draco said snapping Ginny out her daze at the doorway.  
  
"Uh, sure," she mumbled, watching him toss the hair away from his eyes and take a couple of the paper bags she had been carrying. A few uneventful minutes later, the food was away in various cupboards and the old refrigerator Ginny had managed to fix.  
  
When they had finished Draco was leaning against the counter, grinning at her.  
  
"What?" she finally asked.  
  
"I figured out how to get into Malfoy Manor," he announced with smugness. He said it like he hadn't lived there for the last sixteen years. "It's so easy, all we have to do is disable the wards and we're in. And there are only three rooms that have wards inside the house so—" he pointed to one of the rooms on one of the many complicated maps. "—At least one of them has whatever is going to destroy the weapon,"  
  
Over the past fortnight Draco had taken to calling that silver sphere 'the weapon' as if it was something to be feared. And even so, Ginny had noted that Draco hadn't made an ill comment towards her for almost four days, not that she was counting. Draco also refused to go outside to the muggle town and consort with them. So he stayed inside all day, and she vaguely wondered if he was using magic to wipe his face clean of the stubble he would attain at the end of each day, as she was becoming very much aware as the time passed between them.  
  
On the first day they arrived in their small home Draco explained the weapon had to be destroyed before Lucius got his hands on it. The younger Malfoy didn't say much about it, only it had ruined many lives.  
  
"But there's one problem," he went on.  
  
"What is it?" Ginny inquired.  
The blond one sighed heavily almost embarrassed to reveal what the little hitch in their plan was.  
  
"We don't have any money," he stated at last. Ginny was almost relieved.  
  
"Is that it? We don't need money to go through with this," she said, waving away the problem.  
  
"Yes, we do," he snapped as-a-matter-of-factly. "I've looked into it; we're going to need a number of potion ingredients for this,"  
  
"But why?" she asked, utterly bewildered.  
  
"I haven't told you, have I?" he said, pulling an envelope with a very loopy script on the front.  
  
"Told me what?" she questioned reproachfully.  
  
"We are going to a ball,"  
  
**$  
**  
**Where did Draco attain such information? Why didn't Ginny have to pay at the check-out line? Where did Draco receive the mysterious burn from? Lucius? Perhaps when the train collapsed? And why is Ginny so determined to find out how he got it? How did Harry get the weapon in the first place? Where exactly are they staying now?  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
**$**

And here it is your moment of Zen:  
  
"_I figured out how to get the canoe down the mountain. All I need is your snow-blower and a lot of butter._" – Kelso, _That 70's Show._


	10. The World Has Turned and Left Me Here

[**A/N:** I own nothing except the plot of this fan fiction. Sorry, no ball in this chapter; next one, I promise. And thank you so much for the wonderful reviews!]  
  
**.:X:.** **The World Has Turned and Left Me Here  
**  
She wouldn't do it. She point blank refused it. After all this time she had followed him around like a lost Crup and she wouldn't go to the stupid Death Eaters' ball with him. It wasn't as if they were going to do anything. The only way in was through the front door, the Death Eaters would especially be on their guard that night so the only way to create the proper map of the dudgeons was to be in the Manor itself. It was the only way they could check the three rooms to make their next visit quick and clean so their would be no dawdling.  
  
But no she wouldn't do it.  
  
"What if they start torturing Muggles or something?" she asked desperately.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy would never allow any Muggle onto his property," Draco snapped impatiently, growing quite annoyed with the headstrong redhead. "Besides, it's not even a real Death Eater ball; it's just Millicent Bulstrode's coming out party,"  
  
"But didn't she turn seventeen in December?" Ginny inquired.  
  
"That's what I thought, but they put it off," he said, pushing the offending blond strands away from his face. If he charmed it to stay short and slicked back, it would be quite obvious he was using magic. Plus, apparently he looked rugged.  
  
"Well, I'm still not going," she shot. He hated this, it was the one thing he wanted her to do and she wouldn't comply. He kept his composure.  
  
"Look, we only stay for an hour," he said, trying to be reasonable. "Then we wait until everyone else leaves and search the place."  
  
"But if we're going to the ball just to get in," she said, hanging something on the wardrobe door. "Won't it be just as hard getting in the second time?"  
  
"That's the thing," he replied, raising clouds of dust in his wake. "They're expecting some big attack on the night of the ball and when it's over it'll be as abandoned as it ever was,"  
  
"I don't know," Ginny said reluctantly. "Why aren't the Bulstrodes throwing the ball at their Manor?" She really wanted to get out of this, he noted.  
  
"It burned down, remember?" he said dully. "We'll be in and out, I promise," He tried to conjure an expression that would look genuine in her eyes. Easier said than done.  
  
The youngest Weasley still looked uneasy. He could see it in her eyes she didn't want to step into the realm of the Death Eaters.  
  
"Just let me know in the morning, all right?" he said to her. He knew he was being uncharacteristically reasonable, but it was another set of eyes an ears he needed to achieve this, not to mention she could curse you before you can say "Ouch", not that he had any intention of admitting that. It just made him angry because he was used to getting whatever he wanted, but that was beside the point. "And if not, I'll see if I can get someone else." That was all that needed to be said as he entered the undersized bathroom. He could almost feel the anger radiating from her.  
  
**$**  
  
Those damn cobwebs kept getting in his way and obscuring his vision. He needed to see which corridor to take next. There. Under one big, ripped cobweb. The creature who crafted it wouldn't be too happy. He stepped into the corridor and felt something wet invade his shoe, except it wasn't cold like the water in most dungeons but frightfully warm. It was only a few more corridors to go, he'd worry about his shoes later.  
  
Now there were no more torches to light his way. He waved is wand and a beam of light emitted from it, illuminating the mucky, wet set of stairs leading down to a shadowy landing. He took the steps three at a time, and almost reached the bottom when his slipped and fell on his rear end.  
  
Painfully resuming his stance, he whipped his hand on his robes and noticed that it wasn't water, it was blood. He directed the beam of light closer to one of the puddles on the stone ground, and was quite taken aback to see it was a puddle of glistening blood. He could smell it now; the coppery scent stung his nostrils.  
  
He broke into a run now, turning this way and that, knowing which corridors to take. Almost down the last corridor was a wooden door. The knocker lined with moss and blood. The wood itself looked as if one good push and it would crumble. His hand hovered inches above the knocker when he heard the painfully familiar scream and knew he was too late.  
  
** $**  
  
The walls and ceiling were soaked with blood as Draco sat up and rubbed his eyes. Upon opening them once more he almost sighed it relief at the colored moonlight pouring into the room.  
  
His breathing steadied and he lay back. He'd been having that dream ever since he started at Hogwarts. He couldn't explain it. It was just one of those reoccurring dreams. Except there never was any blood in it, no that was new. They stopped just after the train crashed. Weird.  
  
Quite aware of the cold sweat that had resided between his shoulder blades; he removed his robes that he wore every night so Weasley wouldn't goggle at his burns. She was down for the count so it didn't really matter if he took off his robes or hit a metal cooking pot over her head with a spoon. Which sounded like a good idea if you thought about it.  
  
Draco was glad he only chose to wear his trousers; it was too hot to bother with a shirt. He turned on his side facing Weasley with her redhead resting peacefully on the side of the mattress. He had been compelled to touch the mane of hair the first few nights but brushed away the urge. Sometimes he woke up in the night to find his fingers entwined in the fiery tendrils, like this night for instance. After removing his robes, his hand routinely went to the mane of red hair.  
  
He lay there for some minutes before removing it, for she was shifting to the other side. He could see her face now. Unusually fixed in anguish and her eyes under their lids twitching, Draco didn't notice before but her lips were moving mutely. She was having a bad dream, he realized. He wondered if he murmured in his sleep as well, as he shook her awake.  
  
She was shivering when she muttered for him to bugger off, though he barely heard her. Ginny roughly brushed his hand off her shoulder and curled up inside the thin bedclothes.  
  
"Go away,"  
  
"What's the matter with you?" he asked, thoroughly annoyed. Really, he was only trying to help.  
  
"It was just a nightmare," she said, her voice muffled by the blanket wrapped about her.  
  
He had had enough. Draco pulled her on to the mattress and pulled away the blanket.  
  
"I've had enough," he said tiredly. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"  
  
Her hair was disheveled and she only wore one of his white shirts, and he was sure if the moonlight hit her just right, he could see right through it; though that wasn't the matter at hand.  
  
"Nothing's the matter," she snapped. "It was only a nightmare,"  
  
"No, I don't think it was," he snarled. "If you want to be my ally, you can't keep secrets from me. You having dreams about snakes and riddles?" That hit a nerve; her eyes narrowed so much she looked like Professor McGonagall about to take away about one hundred points from the house of the offending student.  
  
"You always have to know everything about everyone, don't you Malfoy?" she retorted.  
  
He didn't like where this was going. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"That's the way you get what you want, isn't it?" she seethed. "You find out things about people, and you use it against them. So like your father—"  
  
"I am not my father!" he thundered, anger building inside him. He saw her just as angry as he felt. He was almost shaking. So that's what he gets for trying to help?  
  
"Get off," he snarled, shoving her off the mattress.  
  
Weasley pulled gathered up the blankets and crossed the room to the other wall and curled up there.  
  
Draco rolled over and resumed his sleeping position facing the wall, quite unaware he was revealing one of his most highly shadowed secrets, forgetting you never turn your back on a Weasley.  
  
** $  
**  
Even if Draco was terribly cross with her from the other night, he still made sure she was unrecognizable as a Weasley for her trip to Diagon Alley. He mutely handed her a steaming mug of the Transpearence Potion like he did every other week and watched the fire in her hair die to a brunette wave and the brown in her eyes to alluring amber. The color in her lips turned so pale her mouth was but just a thin line, he could still see her lips even if they were the color of her pale skin. Ginny was undeniably beautiful, but he didn't like it. He handed her a mirror and watched the amber eyes widen noting the loss of her freckles.  
  
"How did you...?"  
  
"It's just a simple potion," He shrugged. "Different ingredient combination affect different changes in appearance," He never had bothered with a potion before, but as she showed him the newspapers, it became more crucial to keep her disguised. This one didn't even take a day to make, Snape would be proud.  
  
"Right, I'll meet them at the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
She seemed a lot less miffed than the other night. Usually she would huff about an argument all day and forget about it by the time they sat down for tea. Quite strange indeed.  
  
"Remember: in and out," he pressed. "No dawdling, the Transpearence Potion only lasts a couple of hours," He tried to sound like he wasn't too concerned.  
  
"Right," she said. "I'll withdraw some gold from my account at—"  
  
"Don't even do that," he interjected calmly. "If they find out you withdrew money they'll think something's up," Like he kidnapped her for her money or something idiotic like that. 'They' meant her family of course.  
  
"OK," she said. It looked as if she was about to peck him on his cheek like a housewife. "I'll be _in and out_," She mimicked his tone. He would have cursed her right there if she was someone else.  
  
He listened to the soft thump of her Mary Janes on the wooden floor, going down the creaky steps. He scowled. It wasn't the first time they had been separated by such a distance since the start of the whole debacle. He didn't know why but he still didn't like it. What if she ran off and all he had to do was sit and wait for the Ministry wizards to collect him? Not Draco Malfoy, no way.  
  
He was half way to the door when he realized how foolish he was being. If they were going to be partners, they needed to trust each other. But he knew either of them wouldn't dare to give away any of each other's secrets in fear it might be used against them. There was that trust problem again.  
  
It was then he decided he would tell her about the burns. There wasn't much to tell anyway. Perhaps she would tell him why she had nightmares almost every night. One secret for another. She'd like that deal.  
  
In the three uneventful hours that passed, Draco looked and looked again at the maps of Malfoy Manor and wondered, vaguely, if they could pull it off. If they could actually pull it off and save the world from the wrath of a power-crazed blond man.  
  
He had never really wondered what it would be like when it was all over. When Malfoy Senior was put away or, better yet, put to death. He imagined Ginny would go back to school and he – well perhaps he could take an apprenticeship if someone will have him. Everything would go back to normal, or as normal as any wizard life can be. If only it were that simple.  
  
The soft thump of her Mary Janes brought him back to reality and he felt his pulse speed up in anticipation, for which he assumed to finally look upon what they needed to pull this off.  
  
Ginny stepped across the threshold red hair radiating and freckles dancing. She offered him a brown shopping bag and a smile to which he returned. The two of them unloaded the various potion ingredients and at last, Ginny held up a steel thermos, a muggle item used to keep drinks warm.  
  
"You got it then," he asked solemnly.  
  
"Yeah, they were early," She held up two corked glass vials, each containing one hair, one maroon and one brown; the hair from Blaise Zabini and Pandora McFaradox, a Slytherin prefect a year behind Ginny. Both their parents had perished in the War. The two Slytherins had been on Hogwarts Express the same time Draco and Ginny were, and got off before it turned. Draco had owled them a few days ago for their assistance. They, like Draco, wanted no part in Lucius' plans.  
  
"See anyone friendly?" he asked absent mindedly, trying to figure out how to somehow open the thermos.  
  
She blushed. No Weasley blushed without a reason.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Just Neville," she squeaked. Draco almost laughed; Longbottom wouldn't recognize her even if she didn't take the potion.  
  
"Don't worry about it then," he said easily, sitting himself on the mattress. "So how was it in the wizarding world?" He lay down folding his arms under his head. It was a nice break from the wizarding world, not to mention his homework, but he still missed using his wand without getting yelled at.  
  
Weasley looked uneasy at the question.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, the dread building up inside him. This wasn't good news. She gently took the thermos from his hands and unscrewed the top just before he could curse it open. Upon setting it down on the counter her hand slowly traveled to the pocket of her cloak. He hoped she hadn't walked all over town with her cloak on.  
  
It was like she was savoring every moment before she pulled out the crumpled piece of parchment out of her cloak. Her gloved hand slowly handed him the parchment like he was a rabid dog. He sat up and seized it from her grasp like one and unfolded the parchment of its contents.  
  
He was surprised to see his own face sneering out of the worn parchment. The caption under it read:  
  
_DRACO MALFOY  
  
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE _

_CONVICTED OF THE MURDERS OF: _

_GREGORY GOYLE _

_VINCENT CRABBE _

_GINEVRA WEASLEY _

_Please alert Ministry of Magic officials of any sightings or leads of this culprit._

He read the caption over and over again to make sure it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He blinked. The parchment was still there in his hands. He finally looked up.  
  
"But I didn't... They didn't even add in Borgin."  
  
"I know." she sighed, taking off her cloak. He vaguely wondered if she walked through the muggle streets like that. He found himself not caring.  
  
"I didn't mean..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Where did you find this?" he asked, finally stringing together a sentence.  
  
"Oh, they're everywhere," she said grimly. Pouting became her, he noted. "Even in Muggle London; everywhere," She looked defeated. Concerned. If the circumstances had been better he would have been intrigued.  
  
"What are we going to do?" she asked dejectedly.  
  
"Same thing what we planned to do in the first place," he said, trying to make it obvious to her. "And when it's all over, you'll go to the Ministry and I'll be cleared of all charges..." Her eyes pleaded with him. It looked like she had no intention of ever going back to the Weasleys.  
  
"If I went back," she said, red eyebrows arched in despair. "I'd be an insult to the family; it would break Harry's heart. I'm better off dead to them." Draco hated how the anguish in her voice could cut through him so easily. Slow and painfully. Much like the burns he had acquired. His hand went to her arm. He could feel her pain pulsing through him; he hated and loved it at the same time.  
  
The blond boy almost laughed. Connected through pain. How ... fictitious.  
  
"You're not like them, Ginny." he said solemnly. He held her freckled hand. Feeling the weight. The warmth.  
  
"You're not like them either." She smiled. He knew what she meant. "Weasley, allow me to propose an – agreement – a deal, if you will..."  
  
"Only," she imitated his formal tone. "If you cut that 'Weasley' rubbish and call me Ginny."  
  
"Deal," he smirked. "Ginny, what's that?" A set of robes hanging on the wardrobe door caught his eye.  
  
Weasley – Ginny smiled, her freckles danced in the candle light. She crossed the room and returned with the robes. It turned out to be dress robes; two sets of dress robes. She handed him the black ones with the green lining. It was just his size. Ginny held up a set of deep green, almost black for herself.  
  
Draco didn't know whether to be amazed that she agreed to go or that she new his size.  
  
** $**  
  
**Who could have brought up such matters to the Ministry that would result in Draco's conviction? How do our young heroes plan to avoid this bump in the road? Will it be safe for Ginny to return to Diagon Alley again, even with a disguise? Most doubtfully. Will this wavering bond between these two be broken from a lack of trust on both sides? Or will they break down each other's barriers before time runs out?  
**  
Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.  
  
** $**  
  
And here it is, your moment of Zen.  
  
"_I can smell colors._" – Dewey, _Malcolm in the Middle_. 


	11. Casualties of Society

[**A/N:** I own nothing. Only the plot of this fic, I do own. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews!! I wouldn't have gotten this far without my faithful reviewers, you know who you are]

**.:XI:. Casualties of Society**

If Ginny knew weeks ago being a Slytherin was going to be this hard, she wouldn't have given in and agreed. But if she knew about all the brushes and the moments of close contact with the mysterious Malfoy she would have jumped (literally and figuratively) to the prospect of Draco teaching her how to act like a Slytherin.

Ginny wouldn't admit to herself that she almost liked being in such close contact with Malfoy and not in their own separate worlds from each other. Since they would be arriving later, he didn't need to teach her dinner etiquette, it happened to be a whole other area either of them didn't want to get into.

But now it seemed utterly worth it to be in the grand ballroom at Malfoy Manor even if it was for a dire significance. It was as if the two of them were stepping into another world as they entered the ballroom. Underage witches and wizards in their finest robes, finishing their meals on the finest Malfoy platter and asking their partners to dance on the fine Malfoy dance floor. Few she recognized from Hogwarts.

When Ginny was finally released from her state of awe, she became quite aware of Draco stiffening on her arm. She had completely forgotten he grew up in this place and had quite a different perspective about it.

The potion itself only would last an hour so it was crucial to soak up as much information as they could.

"Hello, Blaise," she heard a choppy voice call from her right side.

"Evening, Marcus," Draco replied, nodding to Marcus Flint and – much to Ginny's dismay – steering her over to where Flint stood holding a glass of wine.

"Glad you could make it," Flint flashed Ginny a horrible toothy smile and returned his attention back to Draco. "Quite a scare back after the Holidays,"

"Yes," Draco returned. "Could they repair the Express?"

"For the most part," Flint replied lazily, like it was a strain to continue with the conversation. "Now, everything is set?"

The question caught Ginny by surprise. She looked over to Draco and caught the reassuring glance he granted her.

"Yes, we just have to wait," Draco answered.

"Good to hear," Flint offered Draco his hand, and Draco smoothly retreated it to his pocket after taking it.

Draco gave her a reassuring nod and took her to their table. Ginny was barely aware of the glass of red wine in her hand. It made her feel grown up sitting there with Draco and drinking (expensive, probably) wine and less...sixteen. Wait.

"What day is it?" she asked him.

Draco looked visibly startled from being snapped from his daze, looking upon the other guests (quite close to their age), dance about the room. Ginny noticed that the ones that approached the table nodded and the happiness looked quite fixed as if they were trying their very best not to sulk.

"Don't you spend enough time looking at newspapers," he shot, obviously quite annoyed. "To know what day it is? It's always right there at the top."

"Just answer the question,"

"It happens to be February the twenty-fourth," he said lazily, sipping from his glass. She didn't even notice with all that was happening. Before she could voice her thoughts properly, Draco cut in.

"You know," he said. "It's quite odd not to see any of the parents here, you know make sure their heirs don't act out or say the wrong thing in front of their friends,"

"But their friends aren't here anyway so it defeats the worry of letting something slip," she returned graciously.

"Touché," he said, quirking an elegant black eyebrow at her. "I'm going to have a look around, see where Lucius is hiding,"

"That leaves me here to do what?" Ginny asked. Draco stood up and turned from the table.

"Just stay here and let me handle it," he said nonchalantly.

She watched the space between him and the table increase as the seconds slowly went by then he all together disappeared through the large oak doors from which they entered fifteen minutes before.

Ginny sat there, alone at her table, feeling very put out that Draco could be just as intolerable and just plain rude while he was trying to be another person. But something deep in Ginny's mind told her she wouldn't have it any other way.

She was suddenly snapped out of her daze by a loud applause. The guests' attention seemed to be turned to the entrance of the ballroom, where Draco just exited. There stood Millicent Bulstrode with who appeared to be Theodore Nott, a quiet Slytherin in Millicent's year that doesn't take part in groups, on her arm. Millicent herself beamed at all of them in her periwinkle dress robes. It was odd to see her hair down, she almost looked like a normal girl in her late teens. It still seemed quite peculiar that Millicent hadn't held the party over the Holidays. But even as she moved on to the dance floor, her face noticeably fell.

"Pandora?"

It took Ginny a moment to register that that was her name for the night.

Marcus Flint stood at her side quite hopefully.

"Er, yes?"

"Would you care to dance? I mean since Blaise popped out for a bit doesn't mean you can't join in,"

Ginny was quite surprised that Slytherins used vocabulary like "popped out". Never the less she accepted and was soon swept onto the dance floor.

It was here that Ginny felt herself relax and put aside Flint's atrocious hygiene (or lack thereof) and lose herself in the music. He wasn't such a bad dancer actually and hardly made a move at all to pull her closer. It was quite rare that she ever attended anything this elegant and she might as well enjoy it regardless of what Draco wanted her to do.

But whether she liked it or not, she still heard things on that dance floor. Not the sort of things you'd here in the girls' loo or at the breakfast table.

"Did you hear..."

"...they were so furious...

"...he can't know...,"

"Yeah, he owled 't reach him in time..."

Full realization dominated Ginny's thoughts. It was a trap. This whole ball was a trap made by Lucius in order to lure Draco here. She had to go warn him. She had to go now!

But before she could even get out of step with Flint, a very loud crash echoed across the ballroom and drowned any music that dared to play. Every head in the room turned to the new arrivals at the front entrance.

Magical Law Enforcement Wizards along with a few others from various departments shrouded the front entrance, sealing off any escape.

"Now, now," the silky voice echoed through the silence. Lucius Malfoy stood there in all his glory looking upon the Aurors with mild amusement, seemed to have just appeared at the scene from nowhere. "I'm sure you're all not on the guest list,"

A witch stood apart from the crowd, who turned out to be Tonks. The shock of electric blue hair was a dead giveaway.

"We have reason to believe," she said, quite unlike her usual cheery tone. "That you, Lucius Malfoy, are housing your son, convicted of three murders, here in this Manor,"

Mr. Malfoy looked quite unabashed at this statement. Perhaps even slightly amused.

"And what would give you that idea?" the older Malfoy inquired lightly.

"We have traced the lock on his wand to this area precisely," Tonks returned.

"Is that a fact?"

"It is,"

Another wizard pushed through the crowd looking like he was quite out of breathe. Ginny didn't even have to think twice to know that it was the youngest Weasley boy clad in his faded black Hogwarts robes.

"Harry's got him down in the dungeons," he panted. Ginny suddenly felt very sick. Not only because Draco seemed to be in quite a fix, but also it could only mean –

Ginny looked down at her hands. No longer pale and smooth but calloused and freckled. She pulled a strand of her hair in front of her eyes. Indeed it was no longer a beautiful mahogany but frightfully red.

Ginny looked at Flint pleadingly as the crowd of Ministry wizards departed to the dungeons and a few stayed behind to question Mr. Malfoy. Flint pulled her along to the side wall of beautiful white marble engraved with the Malfoy coat of arms. Flint pushed it in with the side of his fist and a small square of the wall, just big enough for Ginny to fit through, slipped away to the floor.

She looked up to Flint with utmost gratitude.

"Just make sure he doesn't get into anymore trouble," he said before he Disapparated. Ginny was happy to see that they would be able to Disapparate inside the Manor as she slipped through the tiny opening before it closed up.

**$**

It was really a big change from the dazzling ballroom to the mucky dungeons of Malfoy Manor as Ginny arrived after a few slimy seconds in the duct going downwards, an unpleasant reminder to her trip down the chamber of secrets, even if she only could remember flashes of it.

It was terribly dark, and Ginny had a time trying to dismantle her wand from her slime-ridden dress robes.

"_Lumos_," she watched as walls around her began to take form from the darkness. There was only one corridor leading out. Ginny made her way slowly through the twists and turns, ready for anything that might attack.

She only met a Red Cap on her way and quickly stunned it, not before it bombarded her with Stink Pellets and gave her a hard thwack on her forehead, and hoped their wasn't any reason for it to be here, since she knew quite well that Red Caps only appear when blood is spilled.

At last Ginny came to a solid wall. A good Alohomora did the job. She was faced with a very moldy tapestry in her field of view. Dim light bordered the edges and she could hear quite plainly, the conversation going on, on the other side.

"You know," Ginny knew that voice. "I've put up with a lot of your taunting and your feeble attempts to make me miserable,"

"In my defense," sneered another voice that warmed her heart. "Most of those attempts worked quite well."

"I know you didn't kill her,"

"Well that makes two of us doesn't it?"

"I'm willing to let you go if you tell me where she is,"

"What if she doesn't want to be found?" No, no, Draco, you git.

"What are you on about?"

"Perhaps she left on her own accord,"

"You're lying!"

"Am –?" Draco gave a horrible cry of agony.

"Tell me or I'll – I'll –"

More fierce cries of agony. She'd have to help Draco; it was the only way he wouldn't get killed. Harry didn't mean to kill the last time.

Ginny back pulled the tapestry.

"Harry, stop,"

**$**

**How did Lucius find out about their plan? What did Marcus Flint give Draco? Why aren't the adults attending the ball? Why are the guests so sorrowful? How do they know of Draco's plan? Who will Ginny choose? Draco or Harry? What will the repercussions be from this decision?**

Tune in next time for a very special **Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.

**$**

And here it is, your moment of Zen:

"_If_ _it's too loud, turn it down_" – Weezer


	12. No Carbon In Vodka

[**A/N:** I own nothing. But I do own the plot of this fic. Again, thanks for the reviews! Wow, good guess, Stella7. Quick Edit was being weird so I couldn't use my normal page breaks.]

**.:XII:.** **No Carbon in Vodka**

She was beautiful. She was radiating loveliness he hadn't even dreamed of. Even if she was blood and slime covered and oddly smelt like rotten eggs. But right then and there, Draco couldn't have been happier he had taken her with him all those weeks ago.

But it occurred to him that right now was the moment of truth. The moment she would decide to stay or go. It was all up to her now; she held his fate in her freckled hands. There was a moment of shocked silence. Then –

"Harry," Draco felt his shoulders stiffen. Of course he hadn't actually expected her to put up with him for much longer. But as the one word had brought him down to despair, the next to uplifted him so much he was sure he could fly out of the manor. "I'm sorry."

"Ginny, what –?"

"_Stupefy!_" The look of horrible realization dawned on Potter's face before he slumped to the floor, quite unconscious. Draco could have sworn on his mother's grave that he heard the dark haired boy's heart break. "Come on,"

Needing no further convincing, Draco took the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. It was usual for dungeons to be quiet at times, but right then it seemed almost morbidly silent. Ginny, obviously unacquainted with the exact directions as to get out of the horrid dungeons, let Draco take charge of their escape.

"We'll have to take the long way out," he said, still mind-boggled at her display of loyalty to him. "The Aurors will most likely be taking the shortest way,"

She nodded mutely in the wand-light and they were on their way.

There was no attempt at conversation in the gloom; all that was set on their minds were as how to get out.

"There are anti-Apparation barriers around the house so we'll have to wait until we—"

"We can Disapparate in the ballroom, I saw Flint Disapparate there." Ginny put in.

"All right."

Well, that definitely made things easier. Now they could take the passage to the entrance hall without worry. Minutes ticked by with their mad scurry of escape. Ginny, at some point, had taken his hand and held it quite relentlessly. It felt as if she had taken hold of heart instead of his hand. Draco was glad to have it, he was sure she would disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough.

Finally, through the muck of the dungeons, they emerged from a side entrance to the entrance hall behind a large statue of a snake. Quickly casting Disillusionment Charm, the tickling sensation barely distracting them, on both of them they set off past the Ministry officials holding up Draco's picture to a few of the guests that stayed behind for questioning. Draco was glad to see Ginny was right when she said Marcus had Disapparated before he could be questioned.

Draco saw who he remembered as Percy Weasley speaking quite curtly to a baffled Millicent. He found himself taking pity on old Mill as Ginny gave his hand a squeeze before he could first. He knew that that particular Weasley was still not speaking to the rest of the clan, but he understood Ginny's uneasiness to see him.

The ballroom was deserted as they entered. All the candles were unlit and the moonlight pouring through the windows was their only source of light for the moment.

"_Finite_," Draco said, tapping them both on the head. He regretted it as soon as he finished the incantation.

"There they are!"

Without thinking twice, he grabbed her 'round the middle like he had so many times on previous occasions and felt the familiar pull on his navel as he Disapparated with Ginny, their fingers entwined with each other's.

* * *

They stood there together for what felt like to Draco hours. But never did he want to let go. He wanted to bask in the moment forever, regardless if she smelt like Stink Pellets. It seemed that Ginny was also very reluctant to leave his embrace as well.

At this point Draco was quite sure he had had one too many hits with the Cruciatus Curse and his head was a little foggy. But not sure enough. Save for the stiff muscles, Draco felt fine, if a little tired. So maybe it was something else...

How much he didn't want to let her go finally dawned on him when Ginny turned around in his arms.

"I should have a shower," she said finally, not meeting his eyes. She still held his hand. "I probably smell like Dragon dung,"

Before he could stop himself, Draco leaned in slightly, he wasn't much taller than she was, and sniffed. Wasn't really that bad. Pulling back and regaining his composure, he made what he hoped was a sour face and looked down at her blushing complexion.

"Yeah, you'd better go," he sneered. Silently scolding himself for his lack of tact, he turned away from her and sat down at the table with his head in his hands. He didn't know it that the time, but that would be his last endeavor to hurt her, because quite frankly, he didn't like the jolt of pain on his part when he saw her hurt. Must be the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, that Potter really must hate him.

So she chose him. She chose him over the one she (supposedly) loved. It should have raised Draco to the clouds. But he cast away the overflowing happiness inside him to ask _why_? Why? Why did she refuse her last chance at true happiness? She turned her back on her family and the ones she loved, just for him. There had to be more to it.

A large _bang_ echoed across the formerly silent room. Draco whipped around, wand in his hand.

Draco felt himself relax. It amazed him to see Ginny even had a large assortment of freckles on her revealed shoulders in her small towel. She was bent over Draco's closed trunk, wet hair hanging loosely, obviously trying to find something warm to dry off in. Draco had honestly forgotten about the automatic locks on his trunk and how long he had been just sitting there for.

"Here," he said, removing himself from the chair. Draco tapped the trunk lightly with his wand and it immediately jumped open to reveal an assortment of clothing. Draco always insisted they stayed packed for a quick getaway, partially the reason he hated all those articles on the wall could be a lot of evidence right there if the wrong eyes fell upon it.

Draco pulled from his trunk her skirt and blouse but Ginny merely brushed him aside and pulled out one of his flannel shirts and pulled it over her head, unwrapping the towel from her body when she checked she was fully (or at least partially) covered. Then pulled out a pair of _his_ trousers and slipped them on as well. She looked like a little girl playing dress-up.

She gave him a half smile and plopped down on the moth-eaten mattress, beginning to towel dry her hair. He had to give her points for subtlety. He was reminded of something he raided in his fifth year...

"A slumber party?" he said, plopping down on the mattress next to Ginny. "I can't say I'll be taking part in any hair-braiding but I'm up for a good pillow fight,"

"Not on your life, Draco," The way she said his name gave him an involuntary shiver. Luckily, she was busy drying her hair. He would have suggested a Drying Charm but he much rather liked the way her arms moved and the fresh scent of her hair that wafted to his eager nostrils. "Though I imagine your hair is long enough to braid,"

It wasn't _that_ long. Just a little past his collar and sure it kept getting in his eyes, but it was a whole lot better than slicking it back everyday.

"Really? I thought you reckoned I look rugged,"

"I still do," she answered through her mop of fiery hair. Was that a wink she just granted him? Time to change the subject.

"So why were you so fixed on knowing what day it is?" he asked her when she was finished.

"I wasn't fixed on anything," she said tiredly, the night had obviously worn her out. "I just forgot it's..."

"It's..." he prompted.

"My mum's birthday,"

Ouch. She knew that and she still blew off Potter? This didn't make sense.

"It's alright, I just never missed sending her a card or something when the boys forgot," she added.

"Right," he said, desperately scanned the room for something that might lighten the mood. A-ha! How could he have forgotten? Pulling off his sodden dress robes and throwing them aside, he pulled out a tall bottle of clear liquid with an old label.

"What's that?" she asked curiously as he uncorked the lid and handed her the bottle.

"A little gift from father's drinking cabinet," he replied as she handed him the bottle after her swig, with a peculiar look about her face as if she didn't quite know what to make of it. He had taken it from his father's study, where Potter was conveniently hiding.

"Wait!" she said, her expression quickly drawn to apprehensiveness.

"Hang on," he snapped. "You'll get another in a moment,"

He immediately regretted it as soon as the tasteless liquid met his tongue. He pulled the bottle away from his face and almost gagged.

"Dammit," he grunted. "Veritaserum," Only Lucius Malfoy would be as cynical to replace vodka with Veritaserum; of course, that's what you get when you dip into muggle liquors.

"How much did you take?" she asked.

"Just a few drops," he heard himself say. It was like his tongue was acting on its own accord. "It'll only last the night." That obviously didn't assure her.

"But it's enough to spill our darkest secrets," she returned sourly.

"Well," he said, looking at the bottle. "We've kept each other in the dark long enough." He looked to her to see how she'd take it. Her hair was still wet and the sodden locks made shapeless blotched on the front of his shirt that she was wearing. Her freckles were dancing again.

"What?" Draco was snapped out of his reverie.

"We'll alternate questions," he said, wishing he hadn't looked into her warm brown eyes. "I'll ask one, then you ask one and so on. What do you think?"

"I reckon you planned this but then you wouldn't have taken any yourself so..." she said automatically, not stopping to mull it over. "I guess it's not such a bad idea let's test it first. What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said without thought. "What's yours?"

"Ginevra Weasley,"

"Alright," he took time to think of a good question. "What color are your knickers?" he found himself asking. Of all the questions and mysteries about her, he had to ask _that_. Still, a fair question.

"I'm not wearing any," she replied. He watched as her complexion reddened but her eyes stayed determinedly on his own.

"My turn," she gave him a smirk that could have given him a run for his money. "How long do you usually spend in front of the mirror in the mornings?"

She had to ask.

"About an hour," his tongue betrayed him.

"That explains a lot," she laughed, though strangely enough it didn't make Draco want to tear his hair out. Perhaps he was it with too many curses to think straight because he felt oddly obliged to see if the Veritaserum worked when she said she wasn't wearing any knickers.

"Alright," he said challengingly. "Enough child's play, what was that dream about, that time I woke you up?"

That shut her up, though he couldn't say he was all that pleased with himself.

"I was remembering what happened the night of the fire,"

"Oh," But she went on.

"It was so surreal," she said, shivering. Draco pulled her a bit too him to warm her up, a rare considerate move on his part. "All I remember is waking up in a closet. It was really dark and I couldn't move," Draco wondered if she was aware of the tears spilling down her freckled face. "I remembered the last time I was somewhere so closed up,"

"What was it?" he asked before he could help himself.

"It was during the war. I was hit with a spell that I thought was a body-bind spell I was relaxed and I tried to move but I couldn't," She was shaking now. "I could hear them all dying around me and I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything. Then it was quiet. So quiet for so long. I could move but I was trapped. I couldn't breathe. My wand wasn't with me. I reached out a hand and someone screamed. Then someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. And the last thing I remember was waking up at St. Mungo's,"

Draco sat there holding her in horrified shock. So that's what all the mess was about after the war ended. They thought she was...and they tried to...Well that was enough to give anyone nightmares. It was fortunate that the spell wore off before she was buried alive.

"I'm alright," she said finally, though she stayed in his arms, and he didn't make a move to let her go. "My turn," Oh no. "how exactly did you get those burns on your arms and back,"

He knew this was coming.

"It's from when the Express fell," he sighed. "Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and I stunned the driver and tampered with the engine when we thought everyone had left the train." He gave her a look before he continued; she was still in his arms but he held her closer. She didn't move away. "We were really trying to fake our own deaths to avoid being involved with Lucius' plot, it's better to be dead than to be around at all," he explained. "But then Crabbe came up with this idea to tip the train as a message to Dumbledore. But it ended with Crabbe getting his way. The engine exploded and I got most of the damage. They all Disapparated—"

"Even Blaise?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"But he's your friend!" she exclaimed quite abashed.

"He had to get the driver out of there," She nodded. "Like I was saying, they all left and I was in no state to Disapparate so I put my robes back on and looked for an exit. But then see this freckled hand clinging on to the window, and well, you know what happens next,"

"Yes," she said into his shirt. He was becoming very accustomed to her sitting there with his arms wrapped about her. "We've come along way since then, haven't we?"

Draco didn't say anything. He felt a new emotion conquer his worries. It wasn't what he was feeling just seconds ago while he was holding Ginny; he had already become quite accustomed to that, but something else. It was almost like regret, but not quite. No! Surely it couldn't be. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the Guilty Draco Malfoy.

It was true; he felt very bad thinking about when he broke her arm and how he tortured her in their school days. Draco tried not to think about it. Instead he basked in her presence in his arms wondering quite happily if things could get any better at that moment. They did.

He couldn't say he was shocked when their lips met for the first time on that snowy night. He merely took it as a pleasant surprise and resumed marveling, while their lips were still becoming further acquainted, at how this wonderful being could make him feel so alive with something as simple as a kiss. That's when he felt it. That spark. It was then he realized it wasn't just a kiss, but a connection. A reaction. When two forces met, a reaction occurs. But he found he didn't care for details at the moment.

The warmth of her fingers through his hair was enough to expel a shuddering moan from him into her lips. He was rewarded with one from her as he slipped an arm under her shirt, feeling the absence of a bra strap on her back, giving him a tremor in that hand. Draco smiled into the kiss as he felt the goose-bumps rise on her back. He was shocked yet again when her hand settled on his –

He broke the kiss and removed her hand from...him. It was going too far, not as far as he wanted to go... But no, he couldn't, she wasn't just a Slytherin girl he could take advantage of. No, she was just tired.

"What?" she asked, it looked like she was willing to go as far as Draco would.

"Let's just call it a night, shall we?" he said, quite surprised with himself.

"Alright," she said, quite abashed. She lay back with him and curled further into the confines of his arms.

And for the first time, Draco found himself drifting to sleep without any trouble.

* * *

Morning dawned on the grubby living area of our two heroes some hours later. Draco was in no state to move. He was just too... happy, was the word for it he supposed. He was quite aware of the female sleeping peacefully with her innocent head resting on the most part of his torso. If he could stop time right now he would, and make the moment last forever.

"Is it morning?" he heard her ask.

"Looks like it," he replied.

"Are we still under the effects of the damned vodka?" she yawned.

"I'm not sure," he said, though partially certain the potion had worn off. "Who are you?"

"I am Mary, Queen of Scotts," she announced rolling over and holding her fist in the air. "And who might you be, kind sir?"

"I happen to be Alexander the Great," Good. At least the potion worn off.

She lay back beside him and stared up into the ceiling. Draco found himself missing the warmth of her body and found it harder to brush away the feeling. Perhaps there was just a touch of alcohol in the Veritaserum, anything other than having actual feelings towards the wonderful redhead, besides hate and loathing.

As if reading his mind, Ginny shifted over and gently lay her head on his shoulder, he clenched his hand into a fist as a jolt shot through him from the sensation of her hair coming into contact with his neck. Their fingers were intertwined and he found himself unable to wipe the dopey smile off his face.

"I don't understand," she said after a silence that wasn't altogether awkward as she took his hand in her – small by comparison – own.

"Understand what?"

"Why I can't bring myself to hate you," she said furrowing her brow as if he was a difficult Quidditch play. "Or at least dislike you."

Draco stayed silent, quietly happy with himself. She didn't hate him! She practically liked him. For all he knew, she could love him. What a thought! He dared himself to ask. "Then what _do_ you feel?"

"I'm not quite sure," she said slowly, he found himself savoring every word. "But I think I —"

Draco could have cursed the wizard who invented owl post as the taps repeated until Ginny let go of his hand and opened the window to their left. It was odd; they had already gotten their edition of the _Daily Prophet _before they left for the ball so they shouldn't be getting any owls until the evening.

As soon as the window had opened, a handsome eagle owl swooped in and landed gracefully on the table, sticking his leg out expectantly. It was his owl Brutus. But he couldn't imagine why he had come back; Draco had set him free months ago.

Taking the letter with the Malfoy crest on the seal (surprise surprise) he broke it and began to read the fluid writing:

_Draco and company,_

_It has come to my attention that you, and your company, have discarded something upon my property. Arrive at Malfoy Manor by sunset today to exchange it for the weapon or we will be forced to rid your assets of this earth. Enclosed is an item that may help identify what you have disposed of._

_Regards,_

_L. Malfoy_

_P.S.: Perhaps the female majority of your company will find this information more significant._

Finishing, quite perplexed, he handed it to Ginny to see what she could make of it. Her eyes lighting up in horror like that wasn't a good sign. She turned it's envelope upside down and out plopped a mangled set of bloody, horribly familiar spectacles.

**

* * *

**

**What could this mean for our two heroes? Has this message arisen old feeling in Ginny? Will they come up with a plan to save Draco's arch-nemesis? Are they regretting what they shared the previous night? Can they destroy the weapon before Lucius gets his hands on it? Will Ginny regret her choice? **

Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.

* * *

And here it is, your moment of Zen.

"_I_ _am the king of watermelons and drywall!_" – Daryn Jones, _The Buzz_


	13. Stockholm Syndrome

**A/N:** I am SO sorry for the long, long, long, long, long wait. Completely my fault. There will be another chapter shortly (it'll be longer than this one), the last one in fact. Plus their will be an epilogue. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I hope there are people out there still reading this! Oh yeah, and I own nothing except the plot so there.

**XIII Stockholm Syndrome**

Ginny was torn. Shredded. Detached. Whatever you want to call it, if it involved breaking of the heart, that was her. Right there. As she stood stock still, staring at the stupefying spectacles.

It was her fault. Harry was as good as dead and it was entirely her fault. And any sentiment of joy and happiness she felt for Draco was shattered. She had to go to Harry, there was no other choice. She had to. And from the look in Draco's eye, he knew it too.

"I'm going with you," he said, breaking the silence.

"Draco, you can't –"

"Listen," he reasoned. "We can destroy the weapon this way; we just need a plan,"

"There's no time for plans," she snapped. What did he know anyway?

"We need a plan if we're going to get Potter out alive," he said quietly, too quietly.

"Yes, and look what a plan of yours got you," she motioned to the rather nasty burn on his bare chest and immediately regretted it.

"I understand that you're angry," he seethed through gritted teeth. "But for now we have to keep our wits, do you think we'd stand a chance if we just barged in there and demanded Potter's release?"

"Well, no," He did have a point. "I'm sorry, I just – it's all my fault,"

Their eyes met for the briefest second she saw hope and relief flash in the smoky depths of his eyes and something sparked. He had a plan.

* * *

The hours were spent in limbo. No one ate. No one slept. Just plan plan plan. There was no awkwardness. No embarrassed glancing across the room. Neither of them was ashamed. And that's what tore Ginny up the most.

Draco had told her little of what the weapon actually was, what it did probably because he thought she was thinking about Harry. He was wrong. She was thinking about him. Draco. It was like eating chocolate that didn't go bitter in your mouth. And gave that nauseating feeling. And the worst part was she couldn't stop.

This was exactly why Ginny wouldn't talk to Draco as they trudged up the dewy hills enclosing Malfoy Manor. This is why she discussed the plan once and only once. What could she say? She felt bad for not feeling bad.

They both had two objectives: 1) get Potter – Harry out of there. 2) destroy the weapon without dying first. Both were a bit tricky.

Since the wards that surrounded Malfoy Manor were so old and out dated (highly unlike them as well), it knows who is a Malfoy and who is not. Ginny is clearly not a Malfoy so it would be rather hard to search the Manor with Draco without hurting herself someway. Certain rooms could be entered and some could not. It really depended on what the house felt like, oddly enough like a Malfoy.

Ginny had to breathe through her mouth. Draco had told her the Muggles in Iceland could hear her breathe; she had caught a head cold through all the preparation and trudges through the snow.

The eastern entrance suddenly appeared in front of her, she was completely unaware of how badly she just wanted to get up the hill and get on with this and … well neither of them had really thought ahead of rescuing Harry and destroying the weapon. She just wanted to see the next sunrise.

"Alright then," Draco said, after covering the last of their tracks with his wand. "You know what to do?"

Ginny's throat was stuck together so she nodded. He wordlessly handed her the Invisibility cloak. His hand brushed her cold one and she had to look up. His eyes never gave away anything but even she could tell there was something he wasn't telling her. Ginny was about to question him when he pulled her into a tight embrace. Draco's warm body made her feel aglow. He kissed her again. This one impossibly sweeter than the last. That lovely jolt soared through her, better that before. And before she knew it, she was quite alone in Malfoy Manor, with a horrible feeling that that kiss would be their last for a very long time.

* * *

Ginny kept her breathing steady. Draco sure wasn't kidding about the wards on the rooms. Ginny had just stepped into the ballroom and the pain was so sudden, she was sure she was back on the field, fighting for her life with the rest of her peers. Quick to react, cast a shield about herself.

The weak spot of the ward was just left of the door, Draco had told her. Ginny fired a powerful "Stupefy!" at the wall. To her vast relief, the ward relented. Good thing too, her shield was about give way.

Now that she wasn't in immense discomfort, she looked around at her surroundings. Clearly a lot different from the last time she was here. No tables to speak of and the lovely candles were all put away. Quite spooky, she'd have to say.

Now down to business.

The youngest Weasley looked down to there floor. There it was. The design in the center of the large room was that of the Malfoy coat of arms. Much like the other Slytherin families, this one had indication of a serpent, in loyalty to Salazar Slytherin of course.

Ginny crouched down to the elegant floor to get a better look at it. No more different that the other Malfoy seals in the Manor. A snake here, a wand there. Ginny didn't find it very impressive. There it was. Like the rest of the floor, the emblem was flat, except for the tiny impressions around the snakes head. Five in all. The redhead looked at her hand and understood.

Carefully, she placed her freckled hand over the snake's sinister face and pushed forwards with all her strength. Nothing. Ginny pushed harder, shifting all her weight onto her wrist. There it went. But nothing happened again. Quite frustrated now, she dug her nails into the sockets and turned it a half turn counter clockwise and a whole turn the other way. The results surprised her more than anything compared to her lack of progress earlier as she looked into a gaping black chasm.

So this must be it, Ginny thought. Not all together impressive. Now all she had to do was wait for Draco's signal and she could drop the weapon and be done with all of this. Unfortunately, this gave her time to contemplate the Potter–Malfoy situation. Exactly how was everything going to work? They all couldn't just live in the same attic apartment until Harry recovered, could they? What was Harry going to say about this? It felt like years since she'd seen Harry last, even if it was only a matter of hours. Of everything he'd been through, Ginny knew he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve her. So it was almost fitting that she was falling for someone else –

The tip of her wand was emitting green sparks. Draco's signal. Ginny gingerly stepped up to the gap in the middle of the floor. Out of the pocket of her worn-down school robes she pulled out the weapon. So small in size; no bigger than a regular Snitch. Even lighter than she expected when she first acquired it from Harry. She raised it above the opening and let go.

"Bombs away,"

Ginny waited a few seconds and didn't hear it land. But too late now, Ginny understood. This wasn't where the weapon was to be destroyed, no. If her memory served her right, there was a room directly below where she was standing; the one Draco was kept in the night before. The chamber where Lucius was keeping Harry.

It couldn't be. No, Draco told her it was this exact spot where she was supposed to drop it, to destroy it. Unless Draco had tricked her. Unless he had known all this time and wanted the weapon for himself. And the thing was that she did not know whether or not he would do something like this. She loved him, but he was still a Malfoy above all else and she had only really known him for a couple of months and still had little knowledge of what he was capable of. Wait. Hang on. She said it out loud to make sure it was real and not her thoughts running away with her. And of all the useless things she could have said, she said the only one that could get her into any real trouble. "I am in love with Draco Malfoy." And she meant it.

**

* * *

**

**What could this mean for our young heroes? Does Draco feel the same way? Where is Draco exactly? Has he rescued Harry yet? What did he not tell Ginny? Has Draco really betrayed Ginny? Does Lucius have something else up his sleeve? **

Tune in next time to **The Wrath of Ginevra** wherever Internet may be available.

* * *

And here it is, your moment of Zen.

"Wilson, what are you afraid of?"

"Well, I'm afraid that reality as we know it is someone else's dream and when they wake up, I'll no longer exist,"

"Don't tell that to too many people, Wilson,"

– Tim and Wilson, _Home Improvement_


	14. The Clouds Burst

**A/N:** I own nothing, only the plot of this fiction. Wow, zero reviews, don't I feel special.

**.:XIV:. The Clouds Burst**

Draco honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing, as well as what he was hearing, at that moment in the Malfoy dungeons. In the Wizarding world, there were often not many things that were unbelievable, but this right here was one of the very few.

The blond boy was standing where he was just the other night, except Potter was the one in pain and it really looked like Ginny was not going to come and save him now, as he watched her projected self try to find a way out of the ballroom, banging on doors and windows. But this was not what made it so unbelievable. It wasn't the fact that his father has been watching his every move since the train exploded. It wasn't even the fact that Potter was not visibly harmed; it was what Ginny had said. The phrase repeated over and over in his head _I am in love with Draco Malfoy_. And with such defiance too.

"So, you like my new toy, do you Draco?" Lucius purred like an amused cat, snapping Draco out of his trance. The plan had officially failed. Lucius still had access to the weapon if Ginny did not find a way out of there soon. He watched her try to Disapparate unsuccessfully; achieving only what looked like immense pain.

"Fool," Lucius observed, he was clearly enjoying this. "Just wasting her energy, even with the weapon…"

Draco understood, but wasn't about to let Lucius know that. There was still a chance of surviving this. If only he could…

"What weapon? What is he talking about, Malfoy?" Potter decided to put in. Draco was happy to see him squirm over Ginny's earlier statement. "What did you do to her?"

"Bully if I know," Draco said flatly, feigning ignorance. "I didn't do a damn thing, Potter," That really was lie, though.

All three of them looked at the projection of Ginny Weasley biting her lip, Draco could almost see the wheels turning in that pretty redhead of hers and was glad she did not break down under the stress. They were all looking. Draco directed his attention to the mantle above the roaring fire in Lucius Malfoy's office. The room where Ginny had saved his ass the previous night was just the anti-chamber, he realized. He should have remembered the room after his childhood, but when he was with Ginny, he just lost his grip on all his troubles. No, let's not get into that, he thought.

Now, above the mantle was a certain object he needed to take hold of. Draco edged his way closer to the fire. Lucius was still watching with mild amusement, and started to talk to Potter quietly but Draco wasn't paying attention. With all the guile he could muster, with one swipe of his arm, the wand on the mantle was switched with his own. Draco tucked the wand up his sleeve, almost smirking at his craftiness. But he now heard Potter and Lucius hushed conversation.

"…and I'll bet you have wanted to do this for a while now?"

"Well, yes," Potter said, adjusting his glasses. "I do hate him, but I don't reckon Ginny would be happy about me killing someone she loves. I know I'm not too fond of it."

Draco could not believe what he was hearing. Potter had a chance to kill him, Draco, and save Ginny and he wouldn't do it. What angered Draco was that, he would probably kill Potter in a heartbeat if it wasn't for Ginny. He supposed they were not that different after all.

"I didn't say you have a choice, now did I Potter?" Lucius said smoothly. Oh, how Draco loathed that tone. "All you have to—"

"She's gone!" Potter cut him short and all eyes were redirected to the projection. It was true! Ginny had found a way out. But where was she now? Draco wondered as the projection flashed views from allover the Manor. Nowhere in sight, and Lucius had told them it picked up Invisibility Cloaks and Disillusment Charms. But Lucius smirked. He knew something.

"She's on her way,"

_ No!_ Draco's mind was reeling. No! Not after how far they have come. He would not be the cause of her death. He wouldn't. The three men filed into the anti-chamber, Lucius at the rear, warding off any chance of escape. This was really it. It was suddenly very cold, like the atmosphere of the dungeons had finally hit him. He looked over his shoulder, the fire had gone out.

"Where did you find that ring, Potter?" Lucius asked evenly. But Draco barely heard him. Ginny was going to die and it was his fault. There was nothing he could do to save her now. To be so powerless was what Draco hated the most. But not only that but losing the only person who actually said they loved him and meant it, just really tore him up.

"…I found it at my god-father's house," Potter was saying. That explained a lot. But before Potter could continue, Lucius cut him off.

"You could have been great, Draco," Lucius was saying. "But you threw it all away to save that world agia—"

"_Stupefy!_" Draco had never heard such a beautiful word in his life. He whipped around to find a very wind chimney-swept Ginny Weasley at the door way.

"Where did you come from?" Draco inquired.

"Oh, I just took the chimney," she said with a smile and looked over his shoulder at her handi-work. "Oh, hi Harry,"

Potter stared at the redhead before him and wordlessly nodded.

"We have to get out of here," Draco said, still abashed at Ginny's entrance.

"I haven't really thought that far ahead," she shrugged. "Harry, are you alright?"

Potter_ did_ look a little pale. He was looking at Ginny.

She was _glowing_.

And the fireplace she came down was glowing as well. Draco had to act fast if he was going to save all their asses. And it didn't help that his father decided to wake up at that particular time either.

Ginny started to slump and she did look a little pale as well, despite the glowing.

"It knows it's about to be destroyed," Lucius said, coming back to consciousness. It looked like he had a fairly impressive, bloody gash on the side of his blond head.

"Nice one," Draco commented.

"Thanks," Ginny managed.

Sure was worse than she was five seconds ago. Her cheeks became sunken in and her eyes hollow. Whatever it was, it was literally sucking the life out of her.

Draco was at her side when the room started to shake and the candles were flickering. The redhead was leaning on his shoulder and they both sunk to the ground.

"Let me see, I can help," he heard Potter say, but Draco was in another world now. He needed to save her, she needed help. He couldn't lose the one person he had ever loved. He held her bony hand in his while Potter was shouting something.

It was then he understood.

The ring! All this time and she's had it all along.

He was seconds away from pulling it off.

"If you do that Draco, it will kill her." It was his father.

"What do you know?"

"I know enough,"

The wand. He had to use the wand and stop whatever it was doing to her.

"We failed, Draco," she said. "I can't destroy it."

"No no no, I know what to do." Draco pulled out his wand, the sacred wand he stole from the mantle. "Avada –"

"What are you doing?" Potter tried to pull him away from her.

"This is the only way, it has to be destroyed with what it was created from, not where, I read it wrong," Draco almost laughed. Of all the stupid mistakes he made, he had to make that one too.

Ginny was still slipping; it was only a matter of time…

"It's at full capacity now," Lucius said. "All that power, you could raid Hogwarts with that."

Draco realized it used magical energy as fuel in order to control masses of people. This is how Voldemort had done it. If this was happening a few months ago, he might have considered ruling the world, but now…

There was no time to lose, only with this wand in his hand could he destroy the weapon and save Ginny. Then again, with all that power it could rebound upon him and kill him instead, but he had already made up his mind. He lowered his wand to the crystalimbedded inthe ring and what she said still echoed through is mind.

_I am in love with Draco Malfoy._

He looked into her soft brown eyes.

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Tune in next time to the conclusion of **The Wrath of Ginevra**, wherever Internet may be available. 

And here it is, your moment of Zen:

"I say hurl. If you blow chunks and she comes back, she's yours. If you spew and she bolts, it was never meant to be." – Wayne, _Wayne's World_


	15. Epilogue: The Last Train Home

**A/N:** you know the drill. I own nada, except the plot of this fiction. It's been really great writing for you guys and I hope you like the conclusion, I hope you liked it all! Cheers!

****

**.:Epilogue:. The Last Train Home**

Professor Ginevra Weasley gripped her black-boned cane anxiously on the platform. The train was a few minutes late; she hated late trains, always expecting the worst after… well it wasn't something she liked to dwell on.

Ginevra had been admitted to St Peter's Institute for Magical Rehabilitation after what had happened in Malfoy Manor. It was a place where she could rebuild from this horrible experience, her parents had told her. They didn't know that keeping her away from Draco left her nothing to build with.

Lucius had been killed under all the wreckage of his estate and for Ginevra, it had taken almost a year for her bones to fully heal from the wreckage and the drainage of her life force. And then six months was spent learning how to use her limbs again, Ginevra knew she was a quick learner, the Healers kept her in there for her well being.

Her well being, she mused as the black engine rushed past her and slowed to a halt. Ginevra boarded the train with as much grace as she could manage and limped over to her assigned compartment. Her right knee had never quite healed; the Healers had told her the ring had released a poison into her system while it was feeding off her energy. The Healers had kept her quiet with the daily dose of the correct potions, she had learned it was from Fudge to keep her quiet about the whole incident, making it look like it was all Draco's fault and without the Dementors, they had sentenced him to death. This, she would never forgive.

Sliding open the compartment door, she motioned to put her bag on the seat but found someone was already sitting in it. Who ever it was, rose from the seat and towered before her, she was greatly reminded of a Dementor, but did not believe it was real because 1 – she did not her the hiss of a snake and a high cold laugh like she usually did when a Dementor came near, 2 – Dementors fled to the Arctic after the war and 3 – she knew who it was already. Proceeding to place her bag on the compartment floor, she straightened up but before she could greet the shadowy figure, he beat her to it.

Ginevra was flooded with memories and emotions as the strong arms enfolded her. Draco kissed her hard before she had time to react from his embrace. She could read his lips, feel what he felt: passion, want, desire and love. She could tell he had truly missed her after five years without any kind of contact with her. Their kissed deepened and Ginevra was sure she was going to faint.

The blond boy – no, the blond man, released the hold on her lips and they sunk into the seat. She could see into his clear gray eyes and into his soul.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this," he breathed.

It had been five years since she had seen him, since he saved her life by destroying the weapon and no one believed for a second that Draco had been trying to save her. Harry had seen Draco say the incantation and Ginevra had not been fit to submit to questioning, she still would not even after five years.

"I have an idea." she replied.

She let him rake his fingers through her short red hair and shivered at his touch. She just couldn't let go of him. Emotions overwhelmed her and she almost sobbed into his chest, but five lonely years ago, she promised herself she'd never cry again. She had used up all her tears on the night they told her he was dead.

Ginevra traced his lips with her fingers and he closed his eyes. She wanted to memorize every line, every scar. He suddenly took her hand in his and looked into her face with Azkaban hardened eyes and drank her in just like she had done to him.

"Tell me everything," he said urgently. "I want to know,"

Ginevra told her lonely tale of how she recovered from the damage done from the ring. How she had almost lost her sight and her magical abilities but pulled through. About how she was able to continue her education and become a private Magical tutor for children in wealthy families and eventually started teaching Advanced Charms in Durmstrang. She had just come back from a seminar about objects of Dark Magic.

"I never really kept touch with my family after I got out of St Peters," she told him when she had finished. "Where have you been all this time? I know you went to Azkaban, but how did you get out? I thought you were – what happened?"

Draco smiled gravely at her.

"It was a long five years," he said. "I was sedated during the trial; I didn't stand a chance,"

"But that's terrible," she said, horrified. "How did you get out?"

"Well… when Fudge was sacked in '98 for fraud, the new Minister looked at my case and gave me an appeal and the first thing I did was look for you," he said, never taking is eyes of her, blinking rarely as if he was afraid she'd disappear before his eyes. She tightened her small hand around his in reassurance.

"What about the ring?" he asked after a silence.

"What about it?" she raised her hand and adjusted her glasses.

"Well, for starters," he tossed the offending blond hair out of his face. "Where is it from? When was it made? What was it for?"

Ginevra was ready for this, she had read into it, but no source was ever good enough, so she had gone back to the Cottage she and Draco had stayed in for a short time, and looked through the book Draco had been reading. It had been written completely in Latin but she could translate to the best of her ability.

Ginevra took in a breath.

"It was first crafted just after Voldemort rose to power in the 1970s; it was a plan to fall back on in case he happened to fall. Wielded in the ring was a part of his essence and evil." She paused for a moment to let Draco take it all in and continued. "It fell into the hands of Regulus Black, and when he was killed for trying to desert, the ring was forgotten when the word of the Prophesy had reached the Dark Lord's ears and it remained at the Black house ever since, completely forgotten, given to a house-elf for safe keeping. And, well, you know the rest."

"Yes," the blond man said, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "But what does it do, exactly?"

"Well," Ginevra replied, preparing for another speech. "If Voldemort was ever to fall, temporarily or permanently, the ring could be used to – not bring him back, but to replace him, with the same intentions but with someone else's life force."

"Like yours,"

"Exactly," Ginevra responded. "And so when you destroyed the ring, there's nothing left of him on this earth, or so we hope…"

"But only Potter could kill him,"

"Yes," Ginevra said. "But it wasn't him you destroyed, just a shadow of him."

Draco nodded, understanding.

"Did you ever, I mean, did you try to contact me?" Draco asked her, the question completely threw her off.

"Draco," Ginevra studied his face and traced the scars with her eyes. "They told me you were dead."

He frowned and nodded.

Ginevra lifted his chin so he met her gaze and ran her fingers through his hair. "But I never believed it."

Draco pulled her into a soft kiss that made this lovesick redhead rise to the clouds and back again into Draco's arms. He trailed kisses down her neck and held her close. The young Weasley felt something peculiar inside her and almost shuddered as it reached her finger tips and toes. She suddenly remembered this is what it felt like to be happy.

"I'm afraid," she admitted. "I'm afraid this is a dream and I'll wake up,"

Draco held her shoulders, "I'll never leave you, Ginny, never again. I promise you that."

Ginevra smiled, it had been so long since anyone called her that. She looked through the window; the daylight was drawing to a close. It was only a matter of time before she arrived for her appointment.

She turned to Draco.

"You know," she said, looking at his hands in her freckled ones. "I'm investigating rumors about a Dark object reported in Iceland that could over through the magical balance between Dark and Light,"

"Is that so?" he inquired.

"Yes, and if it's legitimate, perhaps you wouldn't mind saving the world with me again?"

The classic smirk made an appearance on Draco's face and he had that spark in his eyes again.

"Only if it's really dangerous and stupid," he said. "and with you."

"Always,"

"I hope you have enough strength for it then," he said, eyeing her cane.

She looked into his eyes and melted into his gaze.

"You give me strength," she whispered and sealed it with a kiss that sent both their hearts soaring and the train they had both boarded made its course into the sunset and to their destiny.

****

**.:THE END:.**


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